Love in Shades of Green and Gray
by LamontCranston1066
Summary: This story is about the developing relationship between Beast Boy and Raven. Told chiefly from Raven's point of view, it will also address her relationships with the other members of her team, as Raven strives to grow beyond her heritage and become a fully rounded human being. Not all chapters will be suitable for minors. Rated M for adult themes
1. Chapter 1 Grey Beginnings

Updated 7/26/2012 to include author's notes and resolve some punctuation and formatting issues that were bugging me.

Author's Notes:

This story is about the developing relationship between Beast Boy and Raven. Told chiefly from Raven's point of view, it will also address her relationship with the other members of her team, as Raven strives to grow beyond her heritage and become a fully rounded human being. Somewhat long, stretches from the events portrayed in the origin episode, "Titans, GO!" past the end of "The End."

I will attempt to update every couple of days. Right now I have a backlog of about ten chapters, but other commitments may force me to alter the update schedule to become weekly.

While most of the material here is appropriate for all ages, some chapters will contain prose many people deem inappropriate for minors. If you are under age, please do not read this material. Under no circumstances should minors communicate with me about this material.

I was born wearing asbestos underwear. Do your worst in the reviews – I can take it.

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do. – Lamont Cranston

* * *

(Present Day)

Raven marched into her room and sealed the door. It was a large room, unusual in Raven's life. Most of the rest of her life had been spent in rather Spartan, monastic quarters, or on the run. Once she had gotten a room of her own, she'd made it her own space with a vengeance. The windows were covered with thick curtains that, when closed could block out all sunlight. The walls were a smoky grey, with a large, half-canopy bed against one wall. Around the semi-circular bed, the wall was decorated with a smoke and mist mural in shades of grey and black. A single mirror with five sides hung over a small dresser and a medieval Italian chest stood by the door. The ceiling lamps were from Japan, and cast an eerie yellow light, while the sculptures around the room reflected a taste for the surreal. It was a dark room for a dark personality.

For a girl who claimed she didn't have any emotions, she had spent a lot of time rushing away from her friends lately. But then, she wasn't truly emotionless. Despite all her protestations to the contrary, such a state wasn't in her background. Her mother had been human, and as full of life and passion as any of that species. It was Arella's anger and bitterness that had driven her into the demonic cult where her daughter was conceived, and it was her suicidal despair and fear for the world that had led her to the monks of Azarath, where the child was born and raised. Raven's father, Trigon the Terrible, had been one of the Dukes of Hell. Not merely a demon, but the Thane of Perdition, he embodied anger, rage, jealousy, and some regarded him as the god of Fear. So a tightly controlled, unemotional state did not come naturally to her. The calm façade people around her saw was the result of a lifetime of training and an iron will. When things were working right, she could separate a part of her soul from her body, and use it to move objects. Her control was fine, and she could move objects as fine as a needle or as heavy as a car. The same power allowed her to levitate, phase her body through solid objects, and even teleport short distances. But that was when things were working well. Raven's magic ebbed and flowed with her emotions, and so the monks of Azarath had trained her. Taught her to control her feelings and keep them locked safely away. She was dangerous.

Raven lived in Titan Tower, an unusual building on an island in the middle of Jump City bay. And unusual it should be, for it was built to house, train, and organize unusual people. Raven was one of five meta-human heroes who protected the city from threats that fell outside of the police and emergency first responder's capabilities. She strode to the middle of her room, reached the foot of her bed, and sat on the floor in the lotus position. Closing her eyes, she reached for the peaceful emptiness that would make everyone around her safe and began to meditate, chanting her mantra.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."

Her pulse slowed. Her anger ebbed. She floated a short distance into the air, drifting on the winds of her mind, her midnight blue cloak gently waving behind her.

Raven was young, having recently turned sixteen. Not by anyone's standards a "normal girl," her demonic heritage was visible, even in her calm state. For convenience she kept her purple hair cut so that it broke just above her shoulders. It was long enough to put in a pony tail when working out, but short enough to wash easily and dry quickly. Her eyes were the purple of amethysts, and were usually cold and flat. Her skin was grey, and did much to give her the reputation for being stone-faced and cold. Most of the time she wore a blue cloak and hood behind which she hid her unusual features. Some would say she was slender and petite. If pressed, she would say that she was short and skinny.

"Why don't they just leave me alone?"

Robin, the team leader, always wanted her to explain why she withdrew. A trained acrobat and martial artist, Robin was the only "normal" human on the team. He wore his hair black and shaggy. Nobody knew what color his eyes were; even the closest members of the team have ever seen him without his harlequin mask. His work clothes were based on an old circus acrobat's costume, with a scarlet tunic, green tights, and yellow utility belt. And he had no basis for comprehending how her powers worked. – Didn't he understand that explaining required thinking and thoughts could release feelings? And feelings could release . . . power?

And Starfire! Always with the singing and laughter and the hugging. Hugging! Physical contact made her empathy far easier. Starfire was in every way, Raven's opposite number. Tall, with long, lustrous red hair, Starfire had a background that was literally out of this world. She was an alien from the planet Tameran, and she lived with her emotions on the extreme outside of her skin. Mornings were never nice, they were always "glorious!" Food never tasted "good," it was "most wonderous!" Taller than Raven, Starfire's skin was golden, her eyes a clear emerald green, and her adolescent body was already showing voluptuous curves that would one day make men and most women stare as she walked down the street. Most of the time Raven thought it was a good thing, because it kept people from noticing her, but occasionally, standing next to Starfire, Raven felt a little bit like a mouse. Starfire's work clothes consisted of a very brief purple skirt that showed off her shapely legs to great advantage, a crop top, and a pair of boots. Her contribution to the team was superhuman strength, nigh invulnerability, and the ability to throw explosive energy blasts which she called starbolts. Oh, yes, and lots and lots of cheery disposition. Every time Starfiregrabbed Raven in one of those bone-crushing hugs, the flighty redhead's own emotions would flood through Raven in a torrent.

"With a friend like that," she thought, "It's a wonder I haven't destroyed the Tower entirely by now."

Cyborg was the least offensive of her friends. Cyborg had once been a young man named Victor Stone. The victim of a catastrophic laboratory accident, he had almost died, but his father, the cause of the accident, had spent time, energy, and a great deal of money replacing his damaged body parts with robotic substitutes. Now he answered only to his hero-name: Cyborg. He was brash, loud, and very, very intelligent. The mechanical parts of his body held many tools useful in the crime-fighting biz. But best of all, he retained most of his empathy, and respected that Raven wanted to keep to herself. His presumption was limited to occasional efforts to make her the butt of juvenile but harmless jokes, or persuade her to take part in the video entertainment and games that made up the socialization of the team. She could occasionally retreat to the haven of his garage and quietly read while he worked on the T-car, or other projects without having to put up with him trying to draw her out.

Beast Boy was the worst though. His whole body was green, from the tips of his toes to the top of his hair. Only his teeth and the whites of his eyes were spared. The youngest of the team, Beast Boy was only fifteen this year. His contribution to the team was perhaps the most unusual. He was an animorph. He could change into any animal he'd ever seen. In some cases, if he could learn enough about it, he could change into an animal that he'd never seen. In the heat of battle, the skinny boy could turn into a fearsome Tyrannosaurus Rex weighing several tons. On one occasion, Raven had seen him turn into an amoeba too small to see with the naked eye. From the very beginning, he'd thought the dark energy she manipulated was creepy. He'd constantly questioned her from the get-go. Why? Where? Poking and prying. And when he wasn't doing that, he'd start with the jokes. Bad puns. Practical jokes.

"Knock-knock jokes, for Azar's sake. What is he? Nine?"

And lately, she couldn't escape him. Every time she turned around, he was under foot. If she was reading in the common room, he'd walk by too close and spill her tea, usually in her lap or on her book. If she was walking past him on the stairs, he trip and fall on her. In the T-car he always seemed to have an elbow in her ribs or a knee in her side. Today had been no exception. The little green idiot had silently come up behind her. When she'd turned around, she'd been so startled to find him there she'd jumped and dumped scalding hot tea down her chest, across an irreplaceable antique book, and then fallen back on her butt on the hard steel floor of the kitchen.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."

Friends.

She slowly opened her eyes and drifted back to the floor with a slight bump. Her eyes flew open.

"I have friends. Real friends."

It had happened so gradually that she hadn't noticed. When she'd come to earth, cast out of Azarath she'd been a thing, not really a person. Just a storage place for the portal that would bring Trigon to Earth, and thus, the end of the world. And end her life. All her life, she'd been told she had evil within her, and that she was created solely to do evil things. And she knew she couldn't stop it. But she'd been determined to try to pay back some small amount of the damage she was destined to do. She'd first gone to the Justice League, but they had sensed Trigon's taint inside her. Not trusting her, they turned her away. She was entirely on her own. Metropolis, under Superman's watchful eye, was closed to her, as was Batman's Gotham. Flash would bar her from Center City, Wonder Woman from Washington DC and so on . . . But Jump City, on the west coast of North America had no resident heroes. And so that is where she would go to try to make a life for herself. And do some good while the world lasted. It was pointless, but still . . . She had to do _something._

And so, at the ripe old age of thirteen, she became a thing with no home, no money, and no future, she'd glided around Jump City a sapphire ghost. From the shadows she prevented car accidents, stopped muggings, and helped emergency services personnel with rescues, all without being seen. She'd had enough of people running away from her. Eating scraps and sleeping in abandoned buildings, she'd tried to make up for what was coming.

Then the green-eyed alien came.

She'd seen the emerald meteor streak across the sky, lighting up the night before it slammed into the pavement. By the time she'd gotten to the crash site, the others were there first. She watched as the three young men engaged the invader. They were powerful, but so was she. Stronger than she looked. She ranted and raged, smashing her bound hands into the ground, the buildings, and the three men trying to stop her. But Raven could sense things. Things real people couldn't. And she could sense that the alien wasn't truly angry. She was afraid.

When Robin made his statement, "I won't lose this fight," Raven had impulsively butted in. Her voice was hesitant. She hadn't spoken to another soul since being fleeing Azarath.

"M-M-Maybe fighting's not the answer," she said.

And it wasn't. With gentle words and a lock pick, Robin had freed the alien from her shackles. The alien had kissed him and then flown off before they could question her.

Then Robin had completely changed Raven's life with two simple words. As he, Beast Boy, and Cyborg stepped away to pursue the invader, he turned to her and said, "You in?"

"I'm not the hero type," she'd replied. "Trust me, if you knew what I really am, you wouldn't want me around." She turned to leave.

"I know enough," he'd replied, refusing to let her leave. Then he put his hand on her shoulder. She'd not been touched by another person since her mother died. Human contact. For those who have it, it's a very small thing. For those who are outcast and alone – it's a godsend. His gauntlet and her cloak muted the wash of emotions, but she'd still felt them. Concern for the city. Worry for the alien. Confusion at his response to the alien girl's sudden kiss. Above all, Raven sensed in Robin an overwhelming sense of responsibility. But in among it all was a warm regard for the wisdom and perception of the blue-cloaked hero he'd just met. She'd smiled very softly for the first time in a very long time. And joined them.

It had been later that same day that Cyborg had also touched her.

"Mind tellin' me why you're always by yourself?"

Looking at the ground, she'd replied, "You heard the kid. I don't exactly fit in."

"He's green, half of me is metal, and she's from outer space," he'd said, gesturing to each of them in turn. "You fit in just fine." And he'd put his hand on her shoulder, too.

Like Robin's gauntlet, Cyborg's metal hand also blunted the emotional overflow. But she'd still been able to sense that Cyborg had been concerned about her. She'd stepped forward almost fearfully, waiting for the rejection that was sure to come. But it never did.

She'd used the phrase "my friends" for the very first time that day. She'd seen the Gordanians violently kick the group around, but they'd all stood firm in defense of the liberty of the green-eyed alien they'd just met. When Beast Boy had been smashed against the warship bulkhead, she'd had enough. Tapping into her fear for her new friends, and her anger at the Gordanians who threatened them, she'd destroyed the bridge of the enormous battle cruiser, sending it splashing into the bay. Raven's new life had truly begun.


	2. Chapter 2 Green Beginnings

Update: 8/12/2012

Densharr - You have a point there. I think I've fixed the issue with Beast Boy's early training. It is mostly based on a couple of scenes I recall from "Homecoming" when Beast Boy is telling himself to "think big," and assumes the shape of a T-Rex for the first thing. I think it was in a flashback. Just a little twiddle in the dialogue.

* * *

(Three Years Ago)

He'd been alone for a while. But it was okay. If nobody was treating him like a person, well, at least Mento wasn't treating him like a chess piece. With no particular place to go and a little bit of money from his birth parents, Beast Boy made his way to Jump City. He'd heard it was a happening town with lots of cool things going on. He'd hope he could find someone to at least hang out with. Maybe he could get back into the showbiz! But there just weren't many roles for a 12-year old, green, pointy eared boy. He'd been on his way to find a pizza when he'd heard the meteoroid crash into the hills downtown. He'd been out of the biz for a while, but it was hard to let go of hero-training. When he arrived it was to discover a roaring fight underway.

But the first thing he noticed was a . . . scent. It was nice.

But then he saw a girl with glowing green eyes in a running fight with a guy in a cape. Hard to tell who the bad guy was, but the girl was obviously much stronger than the boy. His weapon shattered and she leapt up into the air, prepared to pile drive the boy into the pavement.

"Geepers," he thought. "If that lands, she'll splatter him like old tofu. "

Without pausing to consider further, Beast Boy morphed into a goat and head-butted the alien girl away from the young man. To his utter shock, it was Robin. The Robin. Batman's sidekick! "Wowzers!" Cyborg, the half-robot, had joined them almost immediately thereafter. Together, the three boys had just about been ready to lay a world-class beat down on the intruder when he'd smelled that scent again, and it had pulled his attention away. Acting on the advice of the new girl, Robin had made peace with the alien and the group had been about to split up. Casting around for the source of the scent, Beast Boy approached the small girl, Raven.

"You guys wanna get a pizza?"

"I shouldn't," Raven replied, and turned to walk away.

It was her. She was what smelled so . . . good. It was subtle. It wasn't a perfume or a soap. But it was fascinating. He sniffed again as she walked away. "Mmmmm."

* * *

(Two Years Ago)

"How," Beast Boy wondered, "did I get myself into this?"

He was standing on the martial arts mat across from Robin, possibly one of the most well-trained and dangerous martial artists in North America. He'd studied in Japan, China, Thailand, and Brazil. Hell, he used to spar with the freaking _Batman._ Beast boy, on the other hand, was a desultory student at best. He'd played around with all five animal styles of kung-fu, mostly out of curiosity. And Robin had taught him most of what he knew.

It had started at the end of a standard training session as they debriefed.

"How come you always want me shifted into something huge?" Beast Boy had asked.

"It's your best placement as an asset," said Robin, with a shrug.

"I'm more than just a shape shifter, you know."

Cyborg had snorted, "Like what?"

"A fighter," he replied.

Robin had raised an eyebrow.

"Fighting's not really where you shine best," he'd said. "You're great at turning into something small that can gather information for us, and turning into something large that can smash things, but your human form . . ." his voice trailed off.

"What about my human form?" asked Beast Boy, his voice rising.

"I think," Starfire had said carefully, "What Robin is trying to say is that when you are shifted into one of your large animal forms, you are less likely to get hurt and . . . "

"So I'm not tough, am I? Is that it? I trained with under Mento with the Doom Patrol for over seven years!"

"Um, Beast Boy," said Robin, "wasn't most of Mento's training focused on your shapeshifting? Learning to become bigger, stronger animals?"

"Well, some of it. But not all of it!"

"Woah, green bean," interrupted Cyborg, "there's no need to get all hot and bothered. Somebody's got to be the smallest."

"Smallest? Raven's smaller than I am!"

Raven stood, walked over to Beast Boy, and looked down her nose at him. True, he wasn't _much_ shorter than the young empath, but smaller he was."

"Never mind," he'd said. "That's not important. I can fight was well as any of you."

"Beast Boy," Raven said, "Let it go. Somebody has to be weakest. It's no shame to be the least powerful person in this room. If it weren't for your powers, you'd never survive a week doing what we do."

Beast Boy had seethed with fury.

"Oh yeah?" he'd said.

"Yes," she'd replied, flatly.

"You're so sure I can't beat Robin. Are you willing to bet?"

"Gambling is pointless," she'd said. "I don't do it."

"Sounds to me like you're not as sure as you claim to be, Raven," said Cyborg.

Irritated, she'd glared at him. "I know what I know. It's just pointless."

"Afraid you'll lose, huh?"

"Beast Boy, the city provides for our needs. None of us has any money to speak of. You don't have anything I want, and I don't have anything I'm willing to let you have if you win."

"I've got an idea," said Cyborg, grinning. "How 'bout this: if Beast Boy wins, Raven has to go to the show of his choice. If he loses, he can't tell any jokes for a month."

"I'm in," said Raven, without hesitation.

"What makes you think I'm going to have anything to do with this?" asked Robin. "I'm not going to fight him over some silly bet."

"Oh yeah?" said Cyborg, "How 'bout Bee here bets you a month of trainings. He wins, he obviously doesn't need morning training sessions, and can sleep in. You win, he clearly needs the extra time, and he'll come in an hour early for a month."

"Beast Boy," said Robin, "Are you really willing to make such a stupid bet?"

"Stupid is it? I'm SO unlikely to beat you it's STUPID to think I can?"

"Well, no, it's just that . . ."

"You're ON bird boy. Back to the gym!"

Beast Boy stomped out of the room.

"Friend Cyborg," asked Starfire, "Why are you doing this? Beast Boy may get hurt."

"Nah, Robin will be able to put him down without hurting him, he can use the practice, and Raven can use a break from his dumb jokes. He's making her insane. C'mon. Let's go watch the fun."

The team gathered back in the gym and proceeded to the martial arts mat.

"The only way I'm going to do this is with some provisions for safety," said Robin. "Full-contact tournament rules. That means no eye gouges, no bone-breaking holds, and any form of tap-out is okay."

"Great," thought Beast Boy, "He wants to give me as many possible ways to surrender as he can."

Robin continued, "I'll use no equipment, not even my boots." As he spoke, he hung up his utility belt and removed his shoes. "Beast Boy will remain in human form, using only martial arts techniques. Anybody leaving the mat forfeits. Anyone slapping the mat forfeits. Anyone who says 'matai' forfeits. Any questions?"

Beast Boy glared. "Victory conditions?"

Robin grinned. "Make me quit. Or knock me out. Ready?"

Beast Boy snarled, "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Take your best shot," Robin extended his chin.

Beast Boy wound up and threw a haymaker that started somewhere around Gotham City, passed through Metropolis, Center City, and then made it to Jump City. The problem was, the windup was so long and involved, by the time it landed, Robin had been waiting on it. He simply dodged it, and while Beast Boy was off balance, he punched him in the ear.

"Gah," shouted Beast Boy, a burning pain exploding in his sensitive ear.

His left hand jabbed straight out, stabbing at Robin's solar plexus. Robin swept his hand aside with his right hand, and counter-punched Beast Boy's cheek with his left, raising a bruise. Beast Boy staggered back, turned toward Robin and charged, arms stretched out in a flying tackle. Robin side-stepped and brought his elbow down between Beast Boy's shoulder blades. The smaller man slammed down onto the mat, face first.

Beast Boy hopped back up, staggered for a moment, then crouched. Robin smiled at him, and then motioned 'come get some.' The next few minutes did not go well for Beast boy. Ten minutes later, he hauled himself upright. One eye was swollen shut. He was bleeding from a broken nose and the corner of his mouth. His left arm was wrapped around his side, holding his floating ribs. Robin was no longer smiling.

"Look, Beast Boy, I'm sorry. Just stop. We'll call off the bet. I never should have agreed to this."

Beast Boy looked over at the other Titans. Starfire stood with her hands over her mouth, frightened. Cyborg managed to look ashamed and worried at the same time.

Raven was smirking.

She wasn't laughing. And it wasn't a big smirk. But the corner of her mouth was lifted up in amusement.

Beast Boy swiveled his head back around and faced Robin with his one good eye.

"Like hell."

He stepped back out of Robin's immediate reach and gasped, holding his side. Resting, he thought. The animals in his blood and bones had been howling at him to let them out to fight, but that wasn't happening. That would be an automatic forfeit. But the animals were what he was all about. Always. He couldn't be them. But maybe, just maybe, he could _listen_ to them. Of them all, the mongoose was shouting loudest.

"Stop meeting the attacks head-on like a demented gorilla. Anticipate. Dodge. That two-leg fights like a cobra. So FIGHT him like he is a cobra."

"Okay – every time I strike, I get counter-punched. I think I'll go all-out defense until my head clears."

Beast Boy threw a half-hearted, clumsy tiger strike at Robin's face, and it was casually swept away by the larger boy. He glanced to his right as he flung Beast Boy's attack aside and counter-punched with a backfist strike. Expecting it, Beast Boy rolled his spine like a mongoose and pulled his head out of the path of Robin's backfist. Pulled slightly off-balance by his own momentum, Robin staggered ever so slightly, grinned, and set his feet again.

The mongoose was unable to offer any useful offensive suggestions. It wanted Beast Boy to jump onto Robin's back and sink his fangs into his neck, biting his head off. Not constructive advice, especially under sparring rules. He and Robin circled each other. And Beast Boy listened to his blood again. There was another voice, below the mongoose, that vied for his attention.

"The two-leg lookssss away when he blocksss. That issss the time to ssstrike."

Beast Boy smiled to himself and carefully eased his right leg back just a hair, and settled most of his weight on it. He crouched ever so slightly, coiling. Once again, he threw a half-hearted tiger strike to Robin's face, and once again, he swept Beast Boy's arms aside with a light, almost contemptuous flick of his hands. As Beast Boy's hands were swept aside, instead of pulling back, he let them go almost limp, and pushed off of his back foot. He uncoiled his body and thrust forward with his head as hard as he could. The cobra strikes.

Robin glanced back, expecting Beast Boy to be recovering again from his block and was startled to find his field of vision completely blocked by Beast Boy's shock of forest green hair. Robin's eyes widened, but before he could react, Beast Boy's forehead slammed into the point of Robin's chin, slamming his mouth shut with a sharp 'crack.' The shockwave of the blow reached Robin's trigeminal nerve, which miss-fired, and lowered Robin's heart rate and dilated his cerebral blood vessels, causing a temporary low blood pressure state in his brain. Worse, as Robin's head snapped back, his brain actually made contact with the inside of his skull, then, as his head snapped forward, his occipital and frontal lobes also hit the inside of his skull. His vision tunneled, then shrank to a pinpoint. Robin reached deeply inside himself, gathered his inner strength . . .

Lights out.

When you get knocked out or faint, it's not like on TV where you collapse gracefully into a boneless heap. No, when you get knocked out, you generally fall like a tree. Robin rocked backward on his heels, and then fell forward. Beast Boy reached out and grabbed him before he could face-plant on the mat.

"Robin?" Beast Boy said. "Dude! I didn't mean to hit you that hard. Wake up!"

Cyborg intervened. "Easy BB, just lay him down on the mat."

He took Robin's weight from Beast Boy Cyborg produced a tablet of smelling salts and broke it under Robin's nose. Suddenly Beast Boy was jerked from his feet and found himself dangling at the end of Starfire's arm.

"You have hurt friend Robin," said Starfire, her voice going up an octave. "How could you do such a thing?!"

She shook him until his teeth rattled.

Beast Boy turned his head to look at her through his one good eye, sniffed at the blood coming out of his nose, spat out a fang and said, "Star, I think he ahead in the 'hurting a friend' sweepstakes. Please put me down."

Starfire opened her mouth to speak again when there was a moan from Robin. She tossed Beast Boy over her shoulder and rushed to Robin's side.

Robin opened his eyes, "Bruce?" he said blearily.

"No Bruce here, man," said Cyborg.

"No Bruce? Oh, man. Beast Boy? That was some shot. I haven't been hit that hard in a long time. You won, fair and square."

"Thanks Robin," Beast Boy mumbled. His jaw was beginning to swell up and it was getting harder to talk.

"Hey Raven," said Cyborg, "do you suppose you could . . . where did she go?"

Deep within the Tower, behind a locked and sealed door, Raven paced the floor of her room.

"No. No. No. Nononono. I won't do it. I won't sit through a showing of Mutant Ninja Samurai Monkeys VIII while teenagers gape at me and I marinate in a sea of hormones and emotions. I won't do it."

And with that decision comfortably made, Raven folded herself into the lotus position to meditate her stress away. The next morning, however, things were different.

She'd marched into the common room at breakfast, ready to announce her decision. After all, she was Raven. Nobody could MAKE her do anything she didn't consent to. Well, almost nobody. But before she could open her mouth, Cyborg pulled her aside.

"You're planning on welshing on your bet, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'm not going to some stupid movie with the little green idiot, if that's what you mean."

"Huh. Quick question? Who's bigger, you, or Beast Boy?"

"I'm two inches taller than him, why?"

"Never mind that. You do know that if he'd lost that fight, he'd have showed up for every single one of those trainings. Even though no one was going to make him. So who's the bigger person, you or Beast Boy?"

Raven flushed. "Okay, okay. Its one evening. I guess I can survive."


	3. Chapter 3 Wicked!

Author's Notes:

This chapter is shorter than I would like, but I had trouble with the organization. I wasn't sure if it should go at the end of the previous one, or at the beginning of the next one.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my work. I have definite ideas as to which direction the story should go, but I very much appreciate your input.

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do. - Lamont Cranston

* * *

And so, that Friday night, she'd met Beast Boy in the common room of Titan Tower to go to a show of his choosing. The sun was setting off the Bay, and stars were beginning to show.

He's surprised her, not making it a giant production. She'd expected a lot of mockery and low comedy involving corsages or something. She wore her usual costume. When the time came to depart, though, he'd shown up in a sport coat and a tie. The sleeves were a little short, and the tie was out of fashion, but he'd looked . . . respectable.

"You look nice," Beast Boy said.

Raven raised an eyebrow, "I always look this way."

He gave her a toothy grin, "I know."

He headed for the roof stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, I found a nice little café in the theater district."

"Look, I said I'd go to a show of your choice. Dinner wasn't a part of the deal."

"You don't have to eat, but I'm hungry. Follow me."

He morphed into an eagle and jumped off of the roof. Frowning, she glided after him into the gathering night. When they touched down on the sidewalk she'd been surprised again. Not a fast-food emporium, the café was clearly a neighborhood "local." While the other diners had noticed their entrance and stared, green and grey patrons not being typical, the tall backs on the booths had given them a good bit of privacy and the staring had stopped shortly. When the waitress came by, Beast Boy ordered.

"We'll have the tofu special, fruit salad, a cola, and a cup of hot jasmine tea."

"I told you, I'm not eating."

"Suit yourself," he said. "But I've never known you to waste food."

She looked at the fruit salad. It was fresh, colorful, and smelled wonderful. Steam drifted up from the teacup. Her stomach growled audibly. She'd not eaten since breakfast. The tea smelled wonderful. She took the teacup and sipped, closing her eyes. It tasted wonderful. She opened her eyes to discover Beast Boy looking at her curiously. She quickly put down the cup and looked away.

He just smiled that maddening toothy grin and continued eating his tofu special. She frowned again, and then started in on the fruit salad.

"C'mon Rae, you've got to admit, it's pretty good."

"My name is Ra-VEN. Two syllables. And yes, it's okay."

Beast Boy didn't know Sartre from Santa, and thought that the Dhali Lama was an actual llama, but once the conversation actually got going, showed a surprising instinctive grasp of ethics.

"So," he asked, "You're saying that altruists don't do what's right because it's right, but because it makes them feel good. That would make altruists inherently selfish. Wow. That's cynical."

"Yeah, I know," said Raven.

"I dunno if I can agree with you, but it sure make sense. That's creepy. Now it feels like there are no nice people at all. Oh, hey, it's getting late. C'mon."

He paid their tab and they headed out to the theater.

"So what movie is it going to be?" Raven asked. "Mega Monkeys in Space Part VIII? Die Hard With a Vengence – The Second Remake?"

"Actually, I got us theater tickets. We're going to see a musical."

"You hate me, don't you?"

"C'mon Raven, don't be that way. If you'll just loosen up a little, I think you'll like it."

Raven looked up at the marquee above the door. The title of the show was just one word: "Wicked."

When they got back to Titan Tower, they found Cyborg and Robin having a snack in the common room.

"Didn't expect to see you guys until later."

"C'mon, Robin," said Beast Boy, "It's not like it was a real date or anything. Raven wanted to come home after the show.

As the boys talked, Raven made a small pot of tea and walked toward the door that lead to the habitat levels.

After she was gone, Cyborg said, "Did you guys just hear . . ."

"Raven humming," finished Robin. "What did you take her to see?"

"A musical," said Beast Boy.

"You're kidding," replied Cy.

"Nope. Raven is currently humming tunes from 'Wicked.'"

"You took Raven to see 'Wicked,' the biography of the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Yeah – I figured it would be her kind of musical if any show was."

"Why," asked Robin.

"Oh Come ON. It's the life story of a really smart, really powerful girl with funny-colored skin that everybody assumes is strange and evil, just because she looks different. Then it turns out that she's good at her core, always motivated by the best of intentions, and then gets her happy ending. How could that NOT be right up her alley?"

"That explains Raven. How come _you_ like it so much?"

"Dude. She's _green._"


	4. Chapter 4 Stuck

Author's Notes:

Theluckyshot – Thanks. I really liked the last line, myself. I could practically hear his voice as I was writing.

Densharr – Thanks for sticking with me.

As has been noted, I'm borrowing other treatments for some of this piece. This is an adaptation of concepts first explored in Jay Flux Wallace's fine story, "Bonded." There's actually another treatment of this idea in a longer story, and I can no longer remember where I saw it. If anyone could tell me, I'd appreciate it.

(Last Year)

Not everything in Jump City involves psychotic criminals, eldritch horrors, or oozing monsters from outer space. Some things look a lot more normal. At least at first. It had happened during the Jump City Marathon. Most of the available police were deployed securing the marathon route, and there had been a sudden outbreak of violent crime. The Titans had been asked to cover what appeared to be a routine jewelry store robbery.

Cyborg hacked into the stores CCTV system and got the layout of the small building, as well as a count of the bad guys. There were five of them. The store had a single large sales area up front and a smaller back room with a vault, back door, and office.

"I don't like the look of this, Rob," said Cyborg. "I don't recognize those weapons."

Each bad guy was carrying to short carbine-like devices, but one was made of glass, with some kind of mechanism inside. The other looked almost like a paintball gun, with a large tank mounted over the barrel and a large emitter tube rather than a barrel.

"Cy's right. Those look very odd. We're going to have to go in, but be careful, people. Raven, you and Beast Boy take the back door. Cy, Starfire and I will do a frontal assault. Hit them fast and hard people. We need to put them down fast, or bystanders are going to get hurt.

It started to go by the numbers. The three Titans crashed through the front door of the jewelry store, Robin shouting "EVERYBODY DOWN!" The staff of the store dropped to the floor as two of the robbers spun around and fired their odd glass weapons at the intruders.

The weapons hummed, crackled, and lightning leapt from their tips, striking Robin and Starfire, flinging them across the room. The smashed into the front wall of the room and tumbled to the ground, upsetting several jewelry cases and racks. The jewels arched up in a glittering fountain. Robin and Starfire both sat up, hair literally standing on end, smoke rising from their hair, ears, and shoulders. Robin shook his head and smoothed his hair back down into his normal, spikey do.

"Titans," he said, "They're carrying some kind of electric carbines. Be careful!"

At the same time, one of the robbers across the room focused on Starfire and said, "Shit! The Titans are here. Dial it up."

He spun the dial on top of the rifle and it began to emit an ominous hum. Starfire shook her head to clear it and sprang back to her feet.

"That will not work again. I am ready this time, and I am stronger than I look!" She kicked off of the wall and flew across the room toward the leader, who tracked her with his carbine. With a wicked grin, he pulled the trigger. The gun snarled and another bolt of lightning shot across the room, driving Starfire back. As the bolt faded, she snarled through the soot on her face, and her eyes glowed a dangerous green. The criminal gulped and raced into the back room. One of his compatriots too one look at the raging Tameranian and followed suit. There was a hiss, crackle, and roar from the back room, followed by silence. Then sounds of a struggle.

Meanwhile, Cyborg dialed down his sonic canon and began tracking one of the three thieves remaining in the front room as he raced for the door to the back. The thug whirled and snapped a shot off. Instead of snarling lightning, a grey, gooey mass flew from the large barrel of the gun toward Cyborg's head, expanding and appearing to gain mass as it flew. He ducked and it spattered onto the front window of the jewelry store, blocking out much of the sunlight. He tried to correct his aim, but was overwhelmed by the flood of blue sound waves that washed over his body. As he fell, his hand contracted and another wad of grey goo burst from the barrel to impact the ceiling. A second robber looked back and forth from Cyborg and his fallen comrade to Starfire. Stars exploded across his vision as Robin's fist took him on the point of his chin, leaving only one robber in the main room. The last thief in the room swept his eye around, seeing the glaring Cyborg, the emotionless mask of Robin, and the seething fury of Starfire, he dropped his weapon, saying, "This was supposed to be an easy payout. I'll take jail, instead of a beating _and_ jail." He raised his hands.

In the back room, the leader of the team had raced through the door. In his panic, he overlooked Raven and Beast Boy, who had just entered the darkened room. Taking cover behind a crate, he took careful aim at the door, ready to incinerate the first person through it. The first person through it had been his partner. The normal human had taken the full brunt of the electrical discharge and died on the spot, collapsing in a charred and gooey pile. He gasped and shifted the dial on his gun again.

"Not cool, Dude," said Beast Boy.

The man whipped around, hands shaking, and fired, throwing another grey glob. Beast Boy blocked it with his left hand.

"Listen," Raven said, "Nobody else needs to get hurt . . ."

The gun whipped over and he snapped another shot off. She ducked and covered her eyes with her right hand. Eye wide, sweating, and in an utter panic, the robber fired the lightning gun. Raven, her vision still obscured, stood right in the way. Without thinking, Beast Boy reached out and shoved.

"Raven – get down!"

The two collapsed in a heap as the blue-white bolt of electricity shot over their heads, streaking a deep, sooty mark on the back wall.

"That it," said Raven through clenched teeth. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!"

A black nimbus of dark energy surrounded the unfortunate thug. Raven slammed him high up against the wall, feet dangling as she gestured with her left hand. Sparks flew, and there was a small explosion of grey goo as his weapon was torn apart. Quiet descended, and a slight whiff of ozone drifted in the air.

"Raven?" said Beast Boy, "Why is your hand on my leg?"

Raven looked down, and her eyes widened. Her hand was firmly grasping Beast Boy's upper thigh. She'd probably put it there as they untangled from the sprawling tumble. She pulled her hand.

"I . . . I . . . can't let go," she said.

"Now Rae, if you wanted a quick grope, you could have just said something," he flashed a toothy grin.

"This isn't funny. I can't let go." She jerked her hand sharply.

"Ow! Jeez, Rae, what was that for?"

"We're stuck you idiot."

Beast Boy attempted to pull away only to discover that his left hand was firmly glued to Raven's back. The glue had soaked through her leotard and fused the skin of her middle back, her leotard, and Beast Boy's hand into a single mass. The same had happened on Beast Boy's leg.

Her next impulse was to attempt to cut herself loose with a blade made of dark energy, but immediately discarded the idea. While she could make her blades infinitely fine, her perception wasn't fine enough. She'd either end up cutting Beast Boy or herself.

Beast Boy tried to morph into something stronger or with no hands, but immediately stopped at Raven's cry of pain, and the burst of pain from his own body. The glue would _not_ let go.

It was at that point Cyborg came through the door. He glanced at the dead man, and said, "Ew. Anybody bring barbeque sauce?" Then he notice the two Titans stuck together and burst out laughing.

"Found the glue, did you?" he asked.

"This isn't funny," said Raven tightly.

"Friends?" said Starfire from the other room. "Where are you?"

"Yo Rob," said Cyborg, "Starfire doesn't need to see the mess in here."

It only took a moment for Beast Boy and Raven to coordinate walking. She stood to his left, his left hand glued to the middle of her back. Her cloak fell across them and masked the fact that her right hand was firmly attached to the top of his left thigh. The other Titans strove mightily, but were unable to keep entirely straight faces as the two shuffled over to the T-car to exit the scene. Raven fumbled several times with her cloak as she tried to get into the car. Exasperated, Beast Boy simply swept her up in his arms and plopped her down on the seat before she could so much as say "Get your hands off me you green idiot!"

"Sometimes I forget how strong he is, just because he's smaller than me, he's still, well, a guy."

The trip to the hospital did not go well. Raven's anxiety kept going up. At one point she cracked the windshield and blew up one of the tires. Only by going into a meditative trance was she able to keep from really tearing up the nearby city.

Later, after an examination, Dr. Lassiter spoke to Robin.

"I can't really do anything right now. The skin and uniforms are completely bonded. Any solvent we try would injure then, and cutting would expose flesh and bone. Even if I could do it, they'e be horribly scarred."

"So," asked Robin, "What's our way forward?"

"Well," the doctor replied, "I'd advise just plain old waiting."

"Waiting?" asked Starfire.

"Sure. Human skin regenerates completely on a cyclical basis, with old skin sloughing off the top and new skin coming up from underneath. If we leave this alone, natural processes should separate the two of them in almost no time at all."

"How long?" asked Robin.

"About fourteen days. Twenty one at the outside."

Robin winced. "Ravens going to be stuck to Beast Boy for at least two weeks or longer? Have you told them yet?"

"The nurse just went inside to tell them now. Why?"

Robin replied, "Maybe we ought to be the ones to tell them. Raven won't take the news very well and . . . "

He was interrupted by sudden darkness as every light bulb in the corridor shattered. Silence descended.

"Ah, guys," said Cyborg. "I think she knows."


	5. First Night Two in a Bed

Author's Notes:

Thanks to everyone who's given such kind comments in the reviews. Remember, the only payment I get is your commentary. If you don't like it, please tell me why. If you do like it, tell my why also.

Katwizzle - I'm working on it. As you can see, there are a lot of logistics to deal with even for simple daily tasks.

RandomDalmatian326 - Thanks for the pun. I agree.

LadyFelton1994 - Glad you liked it. I'm hoping to update every couple of days. Right now my muse is upon me. We'll see if she sticks around.

theluckyshot - I dunno about hilarity. Funny's not my strong suit. But I'm sure gonna try.

guest - Glad you liked it. The idea's not original. In fact, I've seen it done a couple of times. But I think my take on it is pretty good.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do."

- Lamont Cranston

Raven had not calmed down on the ride home. In fact, she had become more and more agitated. Cyborg had not helped with his Elvis impersonation.

_"You can shake an apple off of an apple tree,  
Shake-a, shake-sugar but you'll never shake me.  
No-sir-ee I'm gonna stick like glue,  
Stick because I'm stuck on you!  
Uh-huh!"_

"Shut. Up."

So then he'd burst into Sugarland's "Stuck Like Glue." She couldn't get him to stop, and then Starfire and Robin started joining in on the choruses. When the T-Car pulled stopped in the garage in Titan Tower, Raven had leapt from the car, dragging Beast Boy with her. They'd marched up the corridors and stairs, with Beast Boy stumbling along, providing running commentary.

"Ow, hey, Raven. Wait. Ouch. Geeez! Hold on a sec. Ow –dammit!"

Eventually they reached Raven's room. The door hissed open and she darted inside, once again, dragging him with her. She shut the door quickly and then leaned her head against it, panting and out of breath.

"Geez, Raven. . . what's UP with you? I think we're bleeding!"

Raven looked down at where her hand met Beast Boy's thigh, and sure enough, a few small runnels of red blood oozed from under her fingers. She shrugged off her cloak and Beast Boy reported the same thing on her back. Her leotard had torn at the edges, and the burning she felt was where her skin was beginning to tear. She didn't look up as she spoke.

"I – I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand the teasing any longer."

One of her lamps shattered. "And I need to meditate."

He looked closer. Her face was as calm and her affect was as flat as it ever was, but he'd lived with her for several years now. He could see the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and hear the almost imperceptible tremor in her voice. Raven was upset. Very upset. And this time it wasn't his fault.

"C'mon Raven, it won't be that bad."

"'That bad?' I'm going to be stuck with YOU for almost a MONTH!"

"Uh, Rae," said Beast Boy, a little more quietly. "Starting to hurt my feelings here. I thought we were friends."

That brought Raven up short. She'd been looking forward to the lack of privacy, noise, and physical intimacy with utter horror, and hadn't given the leas thought about how Beast Boy felt.

"We are," she said, looking away. "It's just that . . . that. . . I'm a really private person. I've never even slept in the same room with someone before. Now I'm going to have to share a . . ."

She looked over at the bed. He blinked.

"Okay, um. We'll deal with that when it comes. But right now, we need to get to the bathroom."

Raven's jerked her head up and stared at him, eyes wide.

"Not that! At least, not yet. That's where the first aid kit is. We have enough problems. I don't wanna get an infection."

They retrieved the first aid kit and took turns cleaning the torn skin, and then painting artificial skin over the tears. A small frown creased Raven's forehead.

"What's wrong," asked Beast Boy.

"Oh, nothing. I was just trying to decide if it was irony that even though I'd give almost anything to get this glue off of me, I'm sitting here watching you brush on more glue."

"I don't know anything about irony. All my uniforms are knit."

Raven put her face in her remaining free hand and sighed, shaking her head slightly. They sat in silence for a little while. Eventually, Beast Boy spoke.

"So, um, Raven. About that bathroom. I've, um, been holding it for like, and hour and a half and, um, we'll have to deal with this sooner or later . . ."

"Please no."

"It won't be so bad. I've got an idea."

By dint of persuasion, begging, pleading, and then having beads of pain-sweat pop up on his forehead, Beast Boy persuaded Raven to accompany him not to their shared bathroom down the hall, but the public Men's Room down in the lobby of Titan Tower. Raven looked around, a little startled. One wall of the room had four urinals, small fluid-only toilets mounted on the wall and partitioned off only by small metal panels.

"I thought you were kidding. You just stand in these little stalls and . . . micturate with other men standing right next to you like that?"

"No. We pee. It's not that bad, you step forward, close to urinal, break out your, um gear, and see, how your body is positioned? It gives you enough privacy."

He stepped forward, demonstrating.

"But what if somebody, um, looks down."

He paused, thinking. "I don't think that's ever happened. It's like, guy rule number three or something."

"Guy rule number three?"

"'At the urinal, never, ever look down. You don't want to know; he don't want to show,' or something like that."

Raven stood on the other side of the partition, eyes resolutely away. Beast Boy began to whistle, partially obscuring the sound of falling water. Eventually the sounds faded away, and he began to shift uncomfortably.

"What's wrong?"

"I, um, I managed to put my . . . self away, but I can't zip my fly."

"Trigon," Raven muttered under her breath. "Here, she said. Don't move."

With infinite care and great reluctance, Raven took the finger and thumb of her left hand and grasped the base of Beast Boy's fly, holding it steady.

"Try it now," she said.

With a firm zipping sound, Beast Boy's privacy was restored, and the two washed their hands.

"That's not going to work for me, you know," said Raven. "And there are going to be other issues."

"One thing at a time. Right now, I'm hungry, and really, really tired."

"Oh please. I can't take any more of Cyborg's singing until I meditate. Can we please skip the common room?"

The young man's stomach growled.

"Tell ya what, Rae, we'll order a veggie pizza, and take it to your room with a couple of sodas. Ok?"

Dinner went as well as could be expected under the circumstances. Beast Boy, of course, got pizza all over himself, which Raven expected. But he also managed to keep it off of her floor, her bed, and her things, which she did not. But as the hours passed, their eyes both kept straying to the proverbial 'elephant in the room,' her bed. Without discussion, they both knew they would have to sleep in here. Raven's queen-sized bed could easily accommodate to small people, but they would have been extremely cramped in Beast Boy's lower bunk.

Eventually Beast Boy spoke. "It's after midnight. I guess we should get to sleep."

"I guess so," said Raven, and they shuffled over to the bed. The both sat down, and Beast Boy lay down first, and Raven sat by his side, kicking her feet on the carpet."

The young man sat up. "Rae?"

He looked closely at her eyes as the turned toward him. They were just a tiny, little bit wider than usual, and again, there were tiny wrinkles around the corners of her eyes.

"Are you . . . nervous?" he asked.

"No!" she said, just a shade two quickly, still sitting stiffly.

"Raven. I'm not gonna, you know, DO anything."

"I know. It's just . . . they say boys . . ."

"Oh – you've heard THAT stuff. Okay, try this instead. 'There are occasions in a man's life when he finds himself in a temporary position of power over a woman. It might be her dignity, her privacy, or her person he has the opportunity to exploit. Those who don't take advantage of these occasions are called 'gentlemen.' There are other words for the men who do. When you find yourself in one of those positions, ask yourself, 'how do you want her to remember you, forever?'"

"That didn't sound like you," Raven said, intrigued.

"It wasn't. That was my Dad. He told me a bunch of stuff in the jungle. A lot of it didn't make sense until later. That bit didn't make sense until right now."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. When you go to sleep, you'll be pretty much defenseless, at least until you wake up. When you remember me for the rest of your life, I don't want you to think of me as a creepy pervert. Go to sleep Raven. You're safe with me."

Just the faintest hint of maroon colored her cheeks.

"I didn't mean . . . I mean, I didn't think you'd . . ."

"You're tired, frustrated, scared, even if you won't admit it, and you need to rest and meditate. It's okay. Sleep."

Raven lay down next to Beast Boy and listened to him breath, until his breathing turned into soft snores. Funny thing was, she did feel safe. She closed her eyes, and sleep came, quicker than she expected.

Raven had always been a 'morning person,' but even the sharpest of morning people have that moment of disorientation that comes when you transition from sleep to waking. And the first thing she was aware of upon waking was that there was _someone in her room. In her Bed._ She didn't really panic. Her disorientation cleared before she could panic, or even really be afraid. But there was plenty of time for her to snap awake and jerk away from the warm body that has somehow snuggled up against her in the night. But it was only a queen-sized bed. As she jerked back, she reached as far as her arm would go and was suddenly halted by Beast Boy's mass as she neared the edge of the bed. Off balance, she fell dragging the sleeping Beast Boy off of the bed and on top of her. They hit the ground with a resounding thud, Beast Boys' full weight upon her chest.

Beast Boy, on the other hand, had 'never' been a morning person. Sure, he was a superhero, and capable of snapping awake at a moment's notice. But that took the full-bore adrenal charge of the Titan alarm going off, Robin's voice shouting "Titans, GO!" or the smell of fire. The thump of his landing atop Ravens soft body was none of these. He opened his eyes to the sounds of a struggle, and some alto grunting noises.

"Get . . . off . . . me. . . can't breathe."

He slowly pried his eyelids open, only to have them confronted by a very cute nose. He shook his head and pulled it back a little bit, to see Raven's amethyst eyes glaring at him.

"Raven? What? Where? I, um, how'd . . ."

"Just get off me."

With his left hand pinned underneath her, he tried to push up with only his right arm. Her right hand, though, had gotten twisted around between them and wasn't leaving him much slack to move. He struggled for a moment. Raven drew in a breath, and then his arm slipped, flopping back on top of her.

That was the moment when Robin chose to open the door.

"Hey, are you two ready to get some . . ." he stopped, jaw dropping.

"It's not what it looks like," the chorused.

"Do you think you could come and give us a hand?" asked Raven.

With only a couple of jokes, Robin helped them disentangle the bed clothes and stand up. Then he left them to figure out how to wash their faces and brush their teeth while he went topside to tell the other's they were coming up for breakfast.

"Do you think there's any hope he won't tell Cyborg what he saw?" asked Raven.

"Nope. Too funny," replied Beast Boy.

"I don't do 'funny.'" Said Raven.

Later, as they were walking up the corridor approaching the common room, Raven spoke.

"Beast Boy," she said, "I want to ask you for a favor."

"What?" he said.

"This is going to be hard enough. Could you please not argue with Cyborg about the merits of tofu over meat this morning? Just this once? I'll cook your breakfast for you if I have to."

"But . . ."

"Please."

"Okay, sure."

They walked into the room to see a grinning Cyborg at the griddle, and a happy Starfire bobbing before the window.

"Good morning friends," she said, "Is it not a glorious day?"

"Glorious," said Raven, flatly.

"Who's up for breakfast?" said Cyborg, with more pep that was really justified. "I have bacon, ham with bacon, sausage with bacon, and sausage with bacon over ham!"

He grinned and waggled his eyebrow at Beast Boy.

Beast Boy opened his mouth, closed it, and started again. "Are there any doughnuts left from yesterday?"


	6. Modesty? Or Desperation?

Author's Notes:

These "chapters" aren't breaking up the way that I want, so the plot may seem a little choppy. I also notice that it's taking longer than I thought to move forward. I hope you're finding it entertaining. Let me know if it seems slow.

Annab1119 - Thanks. I'm usually pretty safe when I'm writing someone else's characters. I get into Mary Sue (Marty Lou?) territory with my OC's, but you haven't seen any yet in this story.

Paragon the Half-Dragon - I decided to go with the "Less Is More" approach with that particular scene. I don't think I could write anything have as scarey as what your imagination will produce under those circumstances.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

Cyborg raised an eyebrow at Beast Boy's non-reaction to his normal daily challenge, but scrounged around on the counter and produced a half a box of doughnuts. That, a grapefruit, and a glass of soy milk constituted his breakfast. Raven was content with a cup of herbal tea and whole wheat toast. As she sat, sipping her tea, she couldn't over-look Beast Boy as he scarfed almost a dozen doughnuts. She rolled her eyes as she watched him play with his food like a little kid. He would skewer each doughnut through the hole, toss it in the air, and then catch it in his mouth, whole, and swallow it down, making yum-yum noises. When he'd finished eating, she leaned over and whispered in his year.

"Now? You're sure?"

"I'm not going to be able to wait forever."

Together they walked down to their shared bathroom on the habitat level and approached the toilet.

"Just don't . . . make any jokes," said Raven.

Robin caught them a few hours later.

"I'm gonna put you guys on medical leave. You can't fight like you are, so I want you to stay in the Tower. You can help with the research. Cyborg has put together a tandem computer station."

"Aw man," said Beast Boy.

"Makes sense," Raven replied.

To their surprise, the assignment turned out moderately well. While Beast Boy had no eye for detail at all, and was easily bored, he could look at visuals Raven composed and see patterns and intuit motivations much faster than Raven's linear logic could. Her attention to detail and ability to juggle many facts at the same time allowed her to flesh out Beast Boy's ideas and assisted the Titans in apprehending the bad guys as quickly as possible. Which was just as well, because down two Titans, Robin, Cyborg, and Starfire were severely challenged when the Hive Five ran amuck in the jewelry district. Professionally, the glued up pair were able to contribute. But their personal lives continued to suffer challenges.

Four days had gone by, and Raven began to destroy every piece of glass in the room. No light bulb or computer console was safe.

"Raven!" barked Robin, as his keyboard started smoking when the couple walked by.

"I'm sorry Robin. I can't help it. I need to meditate, and I can't like this. I have to be alone to mediate."

"You need to come up with something, or I'm going to have to send you away for the duration. I'm sorry, but we can't function with you destroying equipment at this rate."

"I'm sorry," she said again, and fled to her room.

Beast Boy kept pace with her, saying over his shoulder, "Dude, she's doing the best that she can!"

Once again ensconced in Raven's room, they paced. Well, Raven paced. Beast Boy was dragged back and forth across the room.

"Raven, calm down."

"I'm always calm," she said, as a black bolt flew from her seventh chakra and scored the wall. "I just don't know what to do. I need to meditate."

"Well, why don't you?"

"I have to be alone to meditate. With you glued to me, I can't be alone."

"Wait. Why do you have to be alone?"

"I can't focus with distractions around me. I know you think I'm mentally disciplined, but when it comes to mental discipline, I'm just a beginner." She gritted her teeth, frustrated.

"Well, I can be quiet."

She slowly rotated her head and stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, I can."

With that, he dragged her to his room where he collected his Ipod, his Playstation Vita, a pair of headphones, a bag of tofu chips, and an ENORMOUS stack of comic books. Back in Raven's room, he plopped himself down on her bed, put on his headphones, looked over at her and said, "Well?"

Nonplussed, she sat on the bed, crossed her legs into the lotus position and closed her eyes. A moment later, she peeked out of one eye, but he was already deeply engrossed in "_The Adventures of the New Green Lantern Corps!_" She inhaled deeply, slowly let her breath out to find her center, and began to quietly chant her mantra.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zynthos . . ."

She'd hadn't tried entering a trance state with another person in the room for YEARS. Even then, the other person had been Azar, her training master. Azar had been as emotionally and spiritually centered as any human being she'd ever met. Beast Boy, on the other hand, was all over the place. But as he focused on the story, his aura leveled out with only a few dips or spikes as he hit more or less exciting or funny parts of the stories he read. She turned her focus farther inward. Beast Boy's aura receded. Somewhat.

Even when she'd been in training, she'd never, ever tried to focus with someone touching her. As her mind slowly pushed the distractions of the material world away and attempted to turn inward, she could feel the warmth of his hand on her back. One by one, she pushed the physical sensations of the world away. As always, as she turned inward, she became more aware of her own body as distractions of the material world faded away. Eyes closed, mind turned inward, she stopped listening to her breathing, and finally to her own heartbeat.

"Lub-dub."

"That's not right. I've already put that away." Raven pondered.

"Oh. Of course. That's Beast Boy's heartbeat. I can feel it through his hand and my back."

"Lub-dub."

"Azar, his heart is strong."

She slowly pushed the sound of the last distraction away. As she finally turned all her perceptions inward, her body rose and her cloak began to billow on the winds of her mind.

Hours later, Beast Boy looked up, removing his headphones.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zynthos . . ."

"It's been _four hours._ How can she just sit there, saying the same three words over and over?"

He watched for a moment as she floated there, her hair and cloak gently billowing back.

"Wow. I never really noticed before. Her hair is really, really fine. Like, actual _silk._"

Without thinking he reached up and ran his fingers through it. Her hair parted over his fingers like water around a stone. It was smooth, cool, and really did feel like silk. It flowed like quicksilver to the touch. His heart began to beat a little faster and he quickly took his hand away.

"A-heh," he thought. "That would be a great way to lose a hand."

As she drifted there, he looked, really looked at her for the first time. With her cloak billowing about, her tight fighting leotard clung to her physique. He'd never really noticed before, but Raven was . . . kinda cute. I mean, she wasn't _stacked_ like Starfire, but her slender frame was feminine, and while muscular, was soft in all the right places. She was, of course, still very young. There would be more growing for her. Unbidden, his free hand lifted toward that fine, firm ass . . . And was immediately snatched back.

_"Aw c'mon. Just one little squeeze?"_

"What the hell?" he thought. "First she'd kill me, THEN she'd throw the pieces out of the window!"

_"Okay then. Just a quick little pat. And not too gentle, either. After all, she's supposed to be the 'Bad Girl!'"_

"I must be going out of my mind."

He resolutely jammed his headphones back in and grabbed the portable game station. A good game of Samauri Ninja Spider Death Monkeys would clear his head.

Still later, Raven finished her chant.

". . . Metrion, Zythos."

She drifted gently back to the bed and opened her eyes. Gently turning her head, she looked at her companion. He laid partially on his back, eyes closed, mouth open, drooling ever so slightly. She rolled her eyes. His comic books were all face down and no longer neatly stacked. The Ipod had been left to one side and his Nintendo, battery dead, dangled from one hand. She glanced at her clock.

"Wow. Six hours. And he didn't disturb me once. I didn't think he had it in him, even if he did sleep through the last part of it."

She leaned forward to wake him.

"Beast Boy," she called, gently. No answer.

"Beast Boy," a little louder. No answer.

"BEAST BOY!" she shouted.

He jerked upright, combat reflexes yanking him to wakefulness. His eye flew open just as his head came into solid contact with Raven's nose with a slight crunching sound.

"OOWW!" she yelled, jerking back and trying to hold her nose with both hands. The two pulling motions slung Beast Boy onto his back and sideways as he tried to clear his head and his vision.

Beast Boy swam to the surface of consciousness, to be greeted by Raven's patented Death Glare.

"What did I do?"

"I tink you broke by node," she said, from behind her hand.

"What? How?" he sputtered.

She ground her teeth, "Dever bind. Just leve be alone."

"Uh, can't Rae. C'mon. Let me help."

First he grabbed some leftover napkins from last night's dinner, and then took her down to the kitchen for ice.

"I'm really sorry. See – it's hardly bleeding at all. I don't think it's really broken."

The bleeding stopped almost immediately, and the tell-tale throb-throb-throb of a broken nose didn't actually appear. Raven was a little embarrassed at the fuss.

"Sorry," she said, again, holding the ice onto her nose.

"It's okay. I'm used to being yelled at. Were you able to meditate okay?"

"Actually, yes. It went really well. I'm sorry I was under for so long."

"No prob roomie," he grinned, "You obviously were overwhelmed by my awesome personality, and needed time to get over it."

She rolled her eyes.

After day five, Raven could take it no longer.

"Beast Boy," she said one evening, "We have to at least change clothes."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I didn't want to say anything, but you're getting a little ripe."

"Me?" said Raven, "YOU smell like six kinds of animals!"

"Hey, that's normal for me. But you barely have a nose. I'm the one that's suffering here!"

Raven fumed for a moment, then her face smoothed out.

"It really doesn't matter who smells worst, we both need to get out of these clothes and into something clean."

"Okay genius – you're supposed to be the smart one. How do we take off clothes that are glued to us?"

"We'll have to cut them off. The glue's ruined them anyway."

They retrieved some scissors and retreated to Beast Boy's room, as the light was better than Raven's work space. Beast Boy took the scissors and carefully cut around Raven's hand, freeing his pants. Then he cut down the length of his trouser leg and removed his pants.

"And now you know the answer," he said.

"Answer to what?" asked Raven.

"Boxers or briefs? Big Jim and the twins need room to breathe, baby!"

"Beast Boy, I don't think any mortal language has the words to describe just how little interest I have in your underwear. And 'Big Jim and the Twins?' What are you, ten years old? Oh, and call me 'Baby' again and there will be consequences."

He grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from a drawer. Cutting around Raven's hand again, he slit his Spider Man boxers down both sides.

"Why are you cutting them over there?" asked Raven.

"I want to be able to take them off quickly and get the new ones on. This is a little embarrassing."

"Tell me about it. Let me know and I'll look away."

"Ready," Beast Boy said.

Raven looked away, and Beast Boy whipped of the soiled boxes and jerked on a fresh pair. Raven briefly felt "something" warm strike the back of her hand. She squinted her eyes shut tighter.

"I'm going to choose to believe that he brushed me with his hand while changing clothes."

"There," said Beast Boy. "Um Raven?"

"What?" she asked, opening her eyes.

"I feel better, but, well, look."

Raven opened her eyes and followed his gaze to the full length mirror, where she saw herself and Beast Boy, sitting on his bed. With her hand firmly crammed down his pants.

"This, um, doesn't look very good."

"My hand. Is down. Your pants."

"Raven, I know. It's not my fault."

"My. Hand. Is. Down. Your. Pants."

"Raven, hello?"

"I. Am. Not. Walking. Around. This. Tower. With. My. Hand. Down. Your. Pants."

Using the Nuskin glue from the first aid kit and judicious use of scissors, Raven was able to alter Beast Boy's boxers and jeans so that it was clear to a casual observer that Raven's hand was glued to his leg, and not crammed down his pants.

"We can't do this to my pants every time we change clothes, Rae. It'll destroy my wardrobe and cost a fortune."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do. We're going to have to ask for help. C'mon Rae, those were my favorite jeans. I don't have a lot of stuff to just cut it up like this."

"Later. Come one, let's get me changed."

They went to Raven's room and she quickly grabbed a clean pair of bra and panties from her dresser. Beast Boy tried not to peek, but it was hard to avoid.

"A thong," he blurted. "Raven wears a thong?"

She stopped and sighed.

"Beast Boy, what do I always wear?

"That blue, one piece leotard. I figure you've got about fifty of them."

"They're form-fitting. If I wear anything BUT a thong, people will be able to see them. Thongs don't leave big, bulky lines all over my . . . self."

"Oh," he said, "I guess I never thought of it that way."

"Good. At least I know you're not hanging around thinking about my underwear."

"Eew, no."

Raven's logistics were a little better than Beast Boys, but not by much. She had to cut one bra strap and tie it back to get it on with her hand glued down. She was also able to find a zip-front halter top that tied behind her head. It had been a gift from Starfire. That and a pair of boy shorts enabled her to leave her room with only minimal embarrassment.

"Okay," said Beast Boy. "Now we get help."

Faced with the concept of wearing nothing but halter tops for the next three weeks, Raven conceded that they should talk to somebody for help. Of the five of them, only Cyborg sewed.

"I can't take much more of his teasing," she said as they worked their way through the Tower.

"It's not that bad."

She glared down at him.

"Okay, okay."

They found Cyborg in his garage, making some adjustment to the T-ship.

"S'up ya'll?" he asked.

Much to Raven's surprise, Cyborg didn't seem inclined to make jokes. She wondered about that for a moment, and then realized that she'd given him a problem to solve.

"Ah," she thought, "put in the context of an engineering/logistics problem to resolve, he can't let go of the problem long enough to laugh at it."

"Okay, ya'll. We don't want to spend a whole lot of time on this; you'll only be wearing them for three weeks or so. But you gotta have something to wear."

He sat down at his drafting board and started to sketch.

"Raven, we'll do up two or three of these for tops. They're pretty easy."

He drew a one sleeve tunic. Her right arm left bare, Raven would be able to pull the tunic up over her legs and thread her left arm in the single sleeve. A zipper in the back would allow Beast Boy to close the tunic for her around his hand.

Beast Boy was a bigger challenge. With his hand stuck to her back, he couldn't put on shirts. With her hand stuck to his leg, he couldn't put on pants. Cyborg struggled for a couple of hours but was unable to come up with an elegant solution, and ended up designing some modified track clothes for him. A series of Velcro holders and drawstrings held the clothes together and didn't look too bad. Plus, he was able to make it clear where Raven's hand actually was. During the design process she'd made it perfectly clear that it was very important to her.

There'd really only been one argument during the whole process.

"No, no bra," said Cyborg.

"I'm not parading around here braless like some . . . jiggle queen from a seventies TV show."

"I don't care, Raven, exposed bra straps look trashy, and none of the girls in my family are going to walk around looking trashy if I have anything to say about it. And I do; if I'm making the clothes, you'll wear them they way they are designed. If you're _that_ worried about a little bounce, I'll put a support panel in like they do in one piece bathing suits. Exposed bra-straps are for trailer trash young lady."

Raven blinked. "A support panel?"

"Yeah. It's like a built in bra."

"You know an awful lot about women's clothes for a jock."

Cyborg just grinned.


	7. Showers and Scents

Author's Notes:

Johnxgambit – Now now. He already SAW that she wore thongs. She just explained why.

Densharr – I was afraid that might be too subtle. Cy hasn't really dated since high school, before his accident. But back in the day he was a star athlete, and Big Man On Campus. And the BMOC generally learns a lot about women's underwear.

This chapter borrows particularly deeply from "Bonded," by J-Flux Wallace, who pioneered the use of the "opposites stuck together" trope, as applied to BB and Raven.

* * *

As the days passed, they quickly became more skilled at moving as one person. They learned to cook, compute, watch TV, read, and clean house either one handed, or with a close cooperation that hardly required speaking.

Watching them cook breakfast one morning, Robin remarked to Cyborg, "You know, I think this has actually been good for them. I mean, look how well they work together now. I wonder if this might be a good team-building exercise."

"Man," said Cyborg, "I am NOT handcuffing you to Starfire. That would be wrong is so many ways."

"I guess you're right."

It was at breakfast again one morning that Beast Boy asked Cyborg to pass the salt and realized that he'd had to catch it, 'cause Cy had tossed it from the far end of the table. In fact, all three of the non-glued Titans seemed to be clustered around the other end of the table, as far away from Raven and Beast Boy as they could get.

"Now that I notice," he thought, "They all sit on the same end of the couch, too."

In fact, the other three Titans had started taking the stairs, leaving the elevator for the exclusive used of the bonded duo.

"Okay people," he said. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean, Beast Boy?" Robin replied.

"I mean, why are you guys all sitting waaay over there? Why won't you ride the elevator with us?"

"Well, you see Beast Boy," Robin started. Then his voice kind of faded away. He looked over at Starfire.

"There is a little . . . problem. It will go away as soon as you can . . . bathe."

"Bathe?"

"They're saying we smell, Beast Boy," said Raven, flushing.

"Well, duh. We haven't been able to shower for two weeks. You'd get a little wiffy, too."

"It's not like it's your fault or anything," said Robin.

"Is it really that bad?" asked Raven.

Cyborg pointed the remote at the wall-screen TV and pressed a button. The screen sprang to life as an ancient cartoon played out. Pepe Le Phew walked past a sewer rate just exiting from a manhole. The rat stiffened up, hollered "PEEEE-YEEEEW" and collapsed back into the fragrant haven of the sewer.

When you're used to a shower a day, not bathing does interesting things to you. The first thing you notice is the smell. You personally only get it in wiffs, at the beginning. It kinda smells like your own sweat, but . . . riper. Then you get used to it, and don't really notice it any more. But the people around you can smell you, and it doesn't smell like you're sweaty from the gym. The bacteria on your body flourish in the damp environment and generate their own smells that mix with your own. Then, even though you change clothes, you notice that your clothes seem to grind against your body. That's the accumulation of salt crystals on your skin. About that time, your hair, which has been greasy for a week, starts to actually clump together in the proto-dreadlocks. When you touch it, your hands come away oily, and it gets harder and harder to get a comb or brush through it. When you do, you can see the oil on the comb. Then there's the itching. As dead layers of skin accumulate, with no washing or rubbing to ablate them, they start to peel in micro-fragments. Soon you look like a monkey, absently scratching at less and less polite portions of your anatomy as you seek relief. And finally comes the acne. Bacteria, accumulated dead skin cells, and rancid skin oil all combine to produce giant, throbbing pimples, often in places where your clothes rub, but for some reason, across your back, just out of your reach. They cluster between your shoulder blades and up and down our spine. Eventually, they burst, but then they scab over, which is often worse. The itching really never ends. And when you scratch, all that crud ends up under your fingernails.

Back in her room, Raven looked at Beast Boy out of the corner of her eye and said, "I can't take it any more. We're going to have to shower."

"But you said you'd never shower with me if I was the last guy on earth," he replied.

"I know."

"You said we should check with you some time after the heat death of the Universe."

"I know!"

"You said 'Maybe when the sun becomes a cold lump of coal about the size of your forehead."

"I KNOW!"

"You said. . . "

"Stop telling me what I said and come help me get my stuff together."

They got an enormous lavender towel from her linen closet, and a fresh change of clothes. No bathrobe, they hadn't made one that closed up the back. A quick stop at Beast Boy's room got them another track suit and a Batman beach towel.

Then they stood in front of the door to the shower. There would be plenty of room for the two of them in there.

"Okay then," said Beast Boy, whipping off everything but his specially modified Incredible Hulk boxers. "Let's do this."

"Just. . . just give me a minute," Raven responded.

"He's got no body-shyness at all," thought Raven, enviously. I wish I was halfway as comfortable in my own skin as he is."

She looked at herself in the mirror again. Raven was, by some measures, the most powerful of the Titans. By herself, she could rip the bridge right off of the top of a Gordanian battle cruiser. Her soul-self, when manifest, had a wingspan that could shadow half of the city. Half the villains on the continent frightened their children into eating their vegetables with the mention of her name. But she was also just a girl. She was fifteen years old, and had never had any friends outside of the Tower. The only other girls her age she saw were Starfire, and the artificially beautiful, poised, and gracefully teens on TV. She mostly pushed that sort of thing out of her mind. She knew what was coming. What she was going to do in only another year or so. But still, she couldn't help but wish sometimes that she was – normal. She looked down at herself. Flat. Skinny. Hair and eyes a color not found in nature. Skin the color of an alligator. And she was about to strip down to her underwear in front of a boy.

She's been surprised over the past ten days. Beast Boy had been almost the perfect gentleman. Sure, she'd busted him a couple of times peeking at her out of the corner of his eye, but he'd mostly respected her privacy as much as possible under the circumstances. He actually hadn't made _any _jokes about her body or personality. Maybe, just maybe, he'd help her though this, too.

"Beast Boy," she said, not looking at him.

"Yeah?" he said, quietly.

"Can you – not joke about this?"

"C'mon, Raven, how is this not funny?"

"It's just – not. Please?"

No threats. No high-energy fury. Just a quiet 'please.' She'd never done that before. He didn't get it, but it was clearly very important.

"Sure."

"And one more thing. When all this is over, could you not . . . talk about me . . . with Cyborg or Robin?"

He _really_ didn't get that. It wasn't like she was deformed or anything. In fact, he'd kinda notice she was sort of . . . pretty, in a coltish kind of way. And, of course, there was that scent. It was . . . compelling.

"Okay," he confirmed. "No talking. This is another one of those things Dad talked about."

"Your Dad gave you advice about being glued to a girl in the shower?"

"No, he just said that 'there are some things a gentleman doesn't discuss.' I think this is one of them."

"Okay," she sighed. "Unzip me."

Beast Boy reached out and unzipped the one-sleeve tunic Raven had been wearing for the past three days and she shimmied it down her hips. She bit her lip and pulled off the boy shorts and stood back up. She had shifted from thongs to a more modest bikini panty since she wasn't in her form-fitting leotards, but she still felt very exposed. She didn't look at Beast Boy as they stepped into the shower.

Without speaking, Beast Boy fiddled with the shower controls, adjusted the temperature, and said, "Let me know if it's too hot or cold."

She just nodded and stepped into the water.

"Azar!" She thought. "That feels good. Really good."

The hot water cascaded over her head and shoulders, washing away the oils that held it in the clumps and knots she'd been fighting for two days. As the hot water and shampoo rolled through her jasmine-colored locks, they began to relax, and streamed down her neck. She raised her left hand over her head to scrub at her hair, and it lifted her small breasts higher and accentuated her curves.

Beast Boy's eyes bugged out. He was trying to live up to his Dad's definition of a gentleman, but somehow, he couldn't move. He could only stand there, staring. He'd never really thought of Raven like that, but she was . . . hot.

The blue fabric of her underwear immediately turned dark under the flowing water, and clung tightly to her body. Her nipples and her mons stood out clearly under the flowing water as she soaped up. Then she leaned over to soap her legs, eyes still tightly shut against the soap in her hair.

Beast Boy's eyes roved over the curve of her back, watching the flow of the water down her spine, around his hand, and over the smooth rounded mounds of her ass.

"Oh, no," he thought, "not now. Not now not now not now."

A certain portion of his anatomy was stirring. When she opened her eyes, she would kill him, dismember the body, and no longer have to worry about being glued to the rest of him. Just a couple of easy to carry fragments.

"Um, Raven," he said.

"It's _not_ a tattoo," she said, still leaned over.

"What?" he said, distracted.

"The bird on the small of my back is a birthmark, not a tramp-stamp. I don't have any tattoos."

He looked down. Despite his goggle-eyed staring, he'd missed the black bird just above her panty line. It was small. About half the size of his hand. And it didn't look like a birth mark. It looked like a black raven tattoo.

"Oh," he said, "Ok."

"Think of kittens," he told himself. "Kittens aren't sexy."

An image of Japanese Catgirls popped into his head.

"Okay – nuns. Nuns aren't sexy."

Pictures of 'naughty nuns' filled his mind's eye.

"I spend too much time on the internet," he thought. "Quick! Quick! She's going to look up any second."

"Control Freak!" He thought, and focused his mind on the over-weight, clumsy, greasy, inept geek-villain.

It was with great relief that he felt his blood pressure shift and that certain portion of his anatomy subside back into a relaxed state.

He'd not made a single joke about her body or her personality since they got in the shower. She couldn't reach her back with her left hand, and it was still kind of clumsy for some tasks. After struggling for a moment, she decided, "Hell, I've come this far."

"Beast Boy," said Raven, popping upright suddenly, "would you wash my back?" she said, holding out the sponge.

"You sure?" he said, uncertainly.

"I think that if we've come this far, I can count on you not groping me."

She turned her back.

Her skin was unbelievably soft and smooth. Beast Boy would have many adventures in the future. There would be more than one girl for him in the years to come. But he would remember this experience until the last day of his very long life. He made quick work of the scrub down, though, not wanting to chance a change in her inexplicably positive mood.

"Turn around," she said, briskly.

He turned his back, and her small hand ran over his skin. She quickly and efficiently washed and rinsed off his small, ropy muscles. She smiled, almost giggling. He was kinda funny-looking. His head was slightly over-sized and he was kind of skinny, not that she had any room to mock anyone for being skinny. In spite of being a hormonal teenage boy, he'd not taken advantage even once the whole time they'd been stuck together. In fact, he'd been very sweet. She had to face it – she'd had no better friend in her short life. There was only a little more than a year left, and she'd been damn lucky to have him. He was a really nice guy.

He stood there, under the running water as she sluiced the soap off of his back. He was clean, comfortable, relaxed, and very, very confused.

The rest of the week passed quickly, with only one more critical encounter. Long about day 18 or so, Robin innocently said, "Who wants to go out for pizza?"

"Works for me," said Cyborg.

"Oooh, can we get the pineapple and anchovy with mustard pizza this time?" asked Starfire.

"Sounds great," said Beast Boy. "I'm starting to get serious cabin fever.

Raven whipped her head around, unbelieving. "He actually wants to go out in public looking like this?" she thought.

"I don't believe you're even suggesting this," she said to him.

"Aw, c'mon Raven, we've been cooped up in here for almost three weeks. I've barely seen the sun. If you didn't do your morning meditation on the roof, I would have forgotten what time of year it is."

"No!" she replied sharply. "I'm not going out there like this. I get gawped at enough."

Beast Boy looked at Raven, who looked positively stricken. Paler than normal, and with those tell-tale, subtle lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth that could tell any seasoned "Raven Watcher" that she was very upset, and on the verge of losing her temper.

"I guess we're not going, this time, Robin," said Beast Boy.

"Okay Beast Boy," Robin replied. "We'll bring you back a veggie pizza."

"Thanks, I guess," said Beast Boy as he watched the other three walk out the door.

"Okay Raven, what gives?"

"I . . . I just don't want to go out."

"Raven, I've been a really nice guy for a really long time. We've done things your way for two weeks straight. But I'm sick of being cooped up in here! I need sunlight, fresh air, and other people. It's _my turn_ to call the shots."

In response, Raven simply became dead weight and sagged down into the couch and said, "I don't want to go out."

To her surprise, Beast Boy simply scooped her up in his arms and walked toward the door. He was a lot stronger than she expected.

"Beast Boy, stop!"

"I want OUT," he said, continuing toward the door.

Raven began to struggle in his arms, "Beast Boy, STOP. Please!"

The reached her arm back and swung from the shoulder. She hit him across the face with her open hand with all her weight behind it.

"Crack!"

Beast Boy stopped dead before reaching the door.

"What the hell Raven? That _hurt!_"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," she said, looking at the floor. "I just really can't face what people are going to think if we go out looking like a couple."

He held his jaw, rubbing it. "Raven, the glue is going to let go in another week or so, and you can go right back to ignoring me like I'm not here. I'm sure the tabloids will figure it out pretty quick. Am I so weird that it would be _that_ bad for people to think we're, well, together for a lousy week?"

Raven looked up at him. "Don't you care what people think about you?"

He shook his head, clearing it. "Not really. When you're green with fangs, you pretty much figure everyone thinks you're a freak anyway. I've been like this since I was a little kid. I guess I'm used to it."

She looked away again. "It's not so easy for me. I can't help but feel the emotions of people around me. People looks at me. The see the color of my skin or feel the dark energy around me. And they . . . judge me. They often fear me. And I can feel all of it."

"Hey," he said.

She turned to face him.

"Okay, then. When you're feel like you can stand it, we'll go out. In the meantime, can we go down to the water? There's no other people there, and I'm feeling really cooped up here."

"Okay," she said. "I can do that."


	8. Like Ripping Off A BandAid tm

It was about a week later that the team set out from the Tower, still two Titans down. There had been a signal that something unusual was happening in the diamond mine out near the Badlands. When they got there, Robin, Starfire and Cyborg fanned out, looking for clues. All of the mine personnel were either unconscious, or gone. The day's production in diamonds stood broken open as three robots worked to pack it onto some type of high-tech hover sled. Each robot was bipedal, faceless, and had a paintjob that resembled a ninja.

"Slade-bots," said Robin.

"Hello Titans," said a silky voice. "You seem a little under-strength for our usual soiree."

"There may only be three of us today Slade, but we're more than enough to take you down," said Robin. "Titans, GO!"

Back at the Tower, Beast Boy and Raven monitored the fight on their tandem workstation, through the hacked security cameras Cyborg had set up.

"That's . . . a lotta slade-bots," Raven observed.

"Ya think," Beast Boy replied, punching up an overhead view of the fight.

"They're out numbered about thirty to one, the slade-bots are packing ray guns, and I think something big is coming out of the adjoining chamber."

It must have weight about three tons. Bi-pedal, it barely resembled a tyrannosaurus rex made of steel. Although it looked ponderous and slow, it whipped its head around and focused its optics on Starfire, opened its mouth and spit fire.

"Eeeek!" cried Starfire, as she darted to one side. The fireball missed, hitting the back wall of the chamber, to explode, and then slowly slide down the wall, flames licking at the charred stone.

It was clear from the outset of the fight that it was going to be heavy going for the Titans. Cyborg surrounded himself with the chassis of multiple slade-bots, but there were just too many of the near human machines. He fought with mechanical power, human spirit, and great precision, but eventually found himself covered with an electrified net, which kept the mechanical portions of his body in spasm, and unable to respond to his commands.

Robin, ever the acrobat, leapt from opponent to opponent, smashing with his staff, throwing grenades of all types, but eventually, he too was put down. Struck from four sides at once, he was only able to dodge, parry, and re-direct three of the attacks, and was hit with an expanding red stretch net. When he fought against it, it would give way and stretch out, tightening elsewhere. It was all he could to do keep breathing inside it. Starfire flashed about the chamber like a superball from a cannon, barely able to stay ahead of the fire-breathing leviathan that was chasing her.

"Raven," said Beast Boy urgently, "We gotta do something. They're in over their heads."

"What can we do? You can't morph and I can barely concentrate. We'd get them killed."

"Aw, c'mon. You've been meditating every day for almost two solid weeks. You've GOT to be over this and ready to fight. Besides, they're gonna get killed anyway, or worse."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?"

He looked again at the monitor, then around the operations room desperately. "Do your gate-thingy and take us to the garage, and then Terra's old room. I've got an idea." He grabbed an office chair as Raven, perplexed, opened one of her gates.

Just a few minutes later, in the main chamber of the diamond mine, Slades silken, eriudite voice smugly intoned.

"Looks like you ran out of time, Starfire."

Starfire lay on her back, on the floor of the chamber. She was unburned, but the soot, frazzled hair, and smoke rising from her flesh made it clear that it had been a near thing. The mechanical digger had her pinned under one gigantic foot. With no leverage, her great strength was of no use.

"This is where I'm supposed to go into a long monologue about how superior I am, which you will take advantage of to escape. I think we'll just skip that part, and kill you now."

Slade walked over to each Titan in turn, and looked at them curiously, as though he really hadn't expected to get to this point, and was unsure of exactly how to proceed. Finally, he faced Robin.

"I think I'll start with your metal friend over there. Him first, so that Starfire will know what's coming. Then you can watch her die. Then, I'll put you out of your misery. It's a shame, really. You would have made an excellent apprentice."

He walked over to Cyborg, and raised a sleek, modern weapon toward Cyborg's face.

Without warning, his hand and weapon became coated in dark energy. With a sudden movement, he was jerked off his feet and slammed back first into the wall on the other side of chamber. The head of the mechanical monster turned to track sudden movement as a bizarre apparition flew into the room from the surface tunnel.

They came on a flying disk made of dark energy. Beast Boy was seated in an office swivel chair with the casters removed. His right arm supported an enormous shield that looked like it had been cut out of a car hood by someone who had very little skill with a plasma cutter. On his face he wore and old pair of Terra's goggles. His head swiveled back and forth constantly as he tried to take in all of the threats at once. On his lap sat Raven, belted into place with a spare seat belt from Cyborg's T-Car supplies. Two rows of slade-bots began to advance.

"Bust a move, Raven. They're headed in from our right," said Beast Boy.

"On it," said Raven, through gritted teeth.

The disk flickered suddenly to the left, and the rays from the slade-bot's guns cut through empty air. Beast Boy's eyes narrowed.

"Cyborg first," he said.

"Right," she replied.

The disc flashed down from the ceiling where she had taken them for safety. They were a blue and green blue as they crossed the room.

"Hold really still," Cy, thought Beast Boy, as he extended his arm.

Cyborg, unable to move, saw the pair careening toward him, barely in control.

"Beast Boy, what are you doing?"

Raven swept the flying disk past Cyborg and the jagged edge of his shield parted the electrified net holding the machine-man down. Unfortunately, the steel shield was an excellent conductor and the net's charge jumped through their bodies. Both Raven and Beast Boy's hair stood on end, their eyes bugging out. "Gaaaaah!" they shouted. It took every thing Raven had to maintain the disk and keep it under control. Her vision shrank to a pinpoint.

"Raven! Look out!" Beast Boy shouted.

Raven shook her head, and saw the approaching wall. Her eyes glowed white with eldritch power as she strove to overcome their momentum.

Meanwhile, Cyborg's head's-up display came back on. On the inside of his artificial eye he read, "Rebooting, stand by."

"Well, okay then," he thought, turning his remaining human eye on the tactical situation as his mechanical systems re-started.

Slade pulled himself upright and raised an eyebrow as he watched Raven and Beast Boy pull up and skim the wall toward the ceiling, narrowly avoiding a fatal collision with the wall. The slade-bots tracked them closely, but were unable to lock on target.

Over the sound of the wind of their passage, Raven shouted, "That won't work on Robin. His bonds are too close. We'd cut him in half."

"I know," said Beast Boy shouted back. "We're going to have to slow down."

Raven nodded and brought the disk around for another pass.

The giant lizard machine continued to track the duo, but maintained its position, following its last orders: hold the alien. As Raven brought the disk in for another approach to Robin, the slade-bots were able to aim more accurately. Without warning, Beast Boy planted his sneakered feet on the surface of the energy disk and rotated the office chair on its swivel mount, imposing his shield between Raven and the slade-bots. Rays and bullets bounced off of the composite metal and scattered around the chamber. Slade skipped away from a stray round. Raven shook her head as Beast Boy swiveled the chair back.

"Too many of those and we're going to hit a wall and die anyway."

"Just fly, Raven. I've got your back."

She brought the disk past Robin at a near walk. Beast Boy alternated between blocking incoming fire and very, very carefully placing the sharp edge of his shield into the bonds over Robin's chest and hands.

"Quit lyin' around dude," he said. "We've got work to do!"

The pair flashed away as Robin broke out a sharp birdarang with is newly freed hand and began to cut at the elastic net.

Raven and Beast boy continued to flit around the room, occasionally smashing a slade-bot, but mostly ducking and dodging as Beast Boy continued to defend against the slade-bots guns.

"What are we going to do about Starfire," shouted Beast Boy.

"I've got an idea," said Raven. "Keep blocking and try not to distract me!"

Quick as thought, she sent the disk flashing around the head of the giant mechanical beast. With her free hand she cast out bolts of dark energy, making the air around its optics crackle with power. The robot snarled its defiance and snapped at her when she got close. Then Slade made a mistake.

"Damn you, kill them all!" he shouted.

Inside the constructs artificial mind, the new order was accepted and integrated into the previous instructions. In an instant the system made a threat assessment. They flying opponent with the missile weapon was clearly, to its programming, the greater threat. Its head flashed toward Beast Boy and Raven and it leapt after them, lifting its foot up off of Starfire, who immediately shot into the air. Raven, unable to maintain the disk, control it, shoot her energy bolts, and dodge, lost control of the disk, and they spun down to crash into the wall. As they fell, Beast Boy felt a tearing feeling on his leg. The robot, tracking their movement, leapt forward. The two Titans shook their heads to clear them and look up as the machine loomed over them. It opened its mouth, lined with flame. The scent of burning naptha filled their nostrils.

Then the metal beast exploded in a ball of blue-white fire. When the smoke cleared, Cyborg stood there, steam rising from his sonic cannon.

"Boo-yah."

As pieces of the robot continued to rain down around the chamber, Starfire spun around and flung the now-freed Robin at a large group of slade-bots. In a tight tuck and roll, he scattered them like nine-pins, coming out of the roll on his feet and holding his scarlet sword. He flailed about, smashing slade-bots left and right. Above, Starfire kept the 'bots off his back with a rain of starbolts. Robot parts went everywhere.

The office chair destroyed, Beast Boy pulled Raven into a close embrace as she generated another disk under their feet. The flew off the ground, Beast Boy facing backwards, using his shield to guard from the rear and sides when they were shot at. Raven faced forward, looking over Beast Boy's shoulder as she flew the disk. She would swoop past a slade-bot, and signal Beast Boy, who would swing out his shield and either smash the 'bot, or cut off its head. Cyborg began to smash and blast slade-bots in twos and threes. And shortly there were no more to smash. Robin looked down at the last 'bot in his hands, and the faceplate slid away to reveal a video screen.

"Hello Robin," said Slade. "I'm sorry to depart so early, but it appears that rumors of your difficulties were . . . exaggerated. Accordingly, I'll be withdrawing to regroup. See you soon."

The screen went dark.

Robin squeezed the shoulders of the slade-bot until it began the bend under his hands. A vein throbbed in his forehead. His face went red.

"Fear not Friend Robin," said Starfire. "Soon we shall the Slade again, and surely we shall prevail."

Robin's head swiveled on his shoulders as he turned to glare at her. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Careful, Rob," said Cyborg. "Whatever's about to come out of your mouth right now should probably be aimed at Slade. Not Starfire."

Robin closed his mouth, swallowed with an audible gulp, and exhaled.

"Thanks Cy. You're right, Star. We'll get him eventually. Let's go home."

"Um, Beast Boy," said Raven.

"What?

"You can let go of me now."

Beast Boy looked over and realized that he had Raven pinned tightly to his body, and covered protectively with his shield. She'd had to crane her neck to see Robin and Starfire.

"Heh, sorry. He let go of her and shook the crude shield loose from his arm. It fell to the floor with a clang.

"Aw man, I know you didn't cut that thing out of the hood of my car," began Cyborg.

Beast Boy rolled his eyes.

"Dude," he said, "Of course not. Do you think I'm stupid."

Cyborg just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, I was gonna, but Raven pointed out your spare parts rack. Sorry."

"That's okay, Beast Boy," interrupted Robin. "It was a good idea, and the two of you saved all of us."

The Titans returned to the Tower, and after the debriefing retired to their rooms.

Beast Boy stopped Raven on the way to her room. "Let's hit the bathroom first," he said. "I felt some tearing on my leg during the fight. We don't seem to be bleeding but . . ."

"We should take a look at it," she finished, and stepped into the bathroom.

Under the bright lights, they looked at Beast Boy's leg.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. I mean, it did a little when it happened. Like pulling hair. Hang on a sec." He reached down and grasped her wrist and tugged.

"Ow!" he said. "I think . . . I think . . ."

Suddenly, bandaid style, Raven yanked her hand backwards. There was a tearing sound, like tape coming off of a large roll, and her hand came free of Beast Boy's thigh.

"OWW!" he said again.

They both looked at his leg. There, on his thigh, was the silhouette of Raven's tiny hand. The new skin was soft and a little tender, and a light green. But there was no bleeding. Raven's hand was green.

"That means," began Beast Boy, tugging at Raven's back.

"Wait," she said. "I did it wrong with you. Push and twist, don't pull."

Raven braced her feet as Beast Boy pushed his hand against her back and twisted it sharply. There was a louder tape-tearing sound.

"AH!" Raven gasped, as Beast Boy's hand pulled free.

Like Beast Boy, Raven bore a hand print where his had sat for so long. His hand was gray with Raven's skin, but there was no bleeding. Wordlessly they moved to the sink to scrub their hands clean of the other's skin and rotted fragments of leotard and Spiderman boxers. They watched as the bits and pieces of their confinement swirled down the drain.

"So, that's it then, huh," said Beast Boy.

"I guess so," Raven replied.

Beast Boy headed for the door. "Hey Beast Boy," called Raven, after him.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't all bad. Thanks for . . . everything."

He grinned a toothy grin.

"You going back upstairs to celebrate?"

"Nah," he said, shrugging. "To tell the truth Raven, I've had enough company for a little while. I think I want to go to my room . . ."

"Alone," Raven finished for him, and shared one of her rare grins.


	9. In and Back Out of the Darkness

Author's Notes:

First, the shout-outs:

NeoDevilMayCry and Hurai ai 1809 – Thanks. I'm always greatful when people who have enjoyed my writing post comments (reviews). A lot of time and energy goes into this, and reviews and hit-counts are all the payment I get. I should be spending my creative time writing salable stuff, but I've got to get this out of my brain first.

Katwizzle – Patience. They're still very young yet, and we have a long way to go together.

JohnXGambit – Twice have women found it necessary to get my attention with their open hand when I wasn't hearing them. It did, in fact, sound like something was breaking off of my face. I'm writing from life there.

Densharr – At the end of the last chapter, they've had enough togetherness for a while. And yes, back in the day, Cy was a player.

We will be returning the present day shortly, but we have a couple of more flashbacks to go.

* * *

(Present Day)

Raven walked across her room to the far wall and looked at the chest containing the white book. Frowning, she pressed one small hand against the top of the chest.

"I really should lock this up down in the vault with all the other stuff that's too dangerous to leave lying around. Not that _I'm_ gonna be stupid enough to open it again. That's more Beast Boy's cup of tea."

But no . . . that really was unfair. Because Beast Boy _hadn't_ been the one to release the horror within. No, that had been done by the smart one. The one with all the linear logic, who never gave in to impulses.

(Last Year)

Malchior. In her fifteenth year he had been the high-water mark of misery in Raven's life. She'd found him at the bottom of a box of arcane books she's bought in a lot at the estate auction of a man reputed to have been some kind of wizard. She'd been nothing of particular practical use in the box, but there had been some interesting lore books on herbs and, of course, the _Journal of Malchior of Nall._ The book had literally spoken to her, claiming to be Malchior of Nall, a thousand-year-old wizard, trapped in an enchanted book by a wicked dragon during the reign of King Arthur. He'd turned out to be a liar. After days and days of work, she'd freed him from his curse, only to discover that Malchior hadn't been the Wizard of that ancient battle. He'd been the _dragon._ He'd trained her, flattered her, and molded her into the tool he needed, and then cast her aside like so much garbage.

"Azar," she thought. "That had _hurt._"

She'd felt stupid that she could have been so easily fooled. "My hair is a color not found in nature, my eyes look like cheap gemstones, I have no boobs, no waist and no ass, and my skin is the color of a day old corpse! It wasn't like I didn't know how to use a mirror!"

Nobody was could _ever_ call her beautiful and mean it. "And as for being one of those 'girls with a great personality. . .' HA! I'm moody and withdrawn except when I'm sarcastic and abrasive. I claim to have no emotions, but you'd have to be blind and deaf to miss my short temper. So I have no emotions but unpleasant ones. What boy in his right mind wants all of that?"

But it had felt so _good_ to believe him. To love and to be loved. She should have known something was wrong with all of those emotions roaring around her, and her powers not wrecking everything in sight.

Her friends had leapt into action in an effort to contain Melchior as he took wing over the city skyline. They'd fought to some good effect, but it had been her mess to clean up, and she'd done so. In spite of, or perhaps because of Melchior's mocking, she had been able to place him back into the enchanted book from whence he had come. That done, she'd tried to retreat to her room, fleeing her embarrassment and humiliation. It had been Beast Boy who had come to her then.

_Although it was steel, her door carried her scent as he stood in the hallway outside. _

_"I'm sorry Raven," he said, "I'm sorry he broke your heart."_

_ "I know it was all a lie," she replied, "but he was the first person to make me feel like I wasn't . . . creepy. And don't try to tell me I'm not."_

_ "Okay, fine – you're __way_ _creepy. But that doesn't mean you have to stay locked in your room. You think you're alone Raven, but you're not."_

_ She burst out of her room and hugged him, sighing with gusto._

_(Three Years Ago)_

_It really had been a violation of her privacy, and inexcusably rude. But she wouldn't talk to him beyond simple politeness, so when Cyborg had accidentally knocked in the door to her room, Beast Boy couldn't resist the opportunity to explore it. The lure of the forbidden space would have been enough by itself, but when the door clattered against the steel floor of the tower, her scent had wafted out of the room and drawn him in. He'd been helpless to resist it. Oh, he'd covered well._

_"This is our big chance to find out more about her. For instance, check out this beauty mirror! Who would have thought that Raven spent time sprucing?" _

_That little bit of snooping had resulted in his visit to Nevermore, Raven's mindscape. Nevermore turned out to be a mental construct; a metaphor for Raven's mind, with doppelgangers of her that represented each of her tightly controlled emotions. It was a dark place, filled with loneliness, and monsters, but Beast Boy had also encountered Raven's happiness, her sense of humor, her valor, and her intellect. Represented by the avatars Happy, Brave, and Timid, Raven displayed far more complexity, and . . . softness he'd thought she was capable of._

_Besides. The whole place smelled of her. He still couldn't tell you exactly what it was about her, but it kept calling him closer. It wasn't floral. Well, maybe a hint of vanilla. _

Raven snorted as she considered her friends. With Starfire it had taken longer. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying on the other girl's part. Starfire wanted nothing more than to have someone "to have the girl talking with," and "the braiding of each other's hair." It wasn't until that mess with the Puppet King had placed their souls in each other's bodies that they had begun to understand one another. It had been Starfire who had realized that, "If you and I are to overcome this ordeal, we must know _everything_ about each other. So . . . begin sharing."

And share they had. Starfire had come to an intimate understanding of why Raven was "complicated," and had later run interference with the boys, explaining that "there are many things about her we are not meant to understand." Raven had also come to understand some of Starfire's passions. Her effusive nature and constant offers of closeness didn't come from a lack of respect for boundaries, but from her own loneliness. Like Raven, she was a stranger to Earth. They were in the society, but not _of _it. Unlike Raven, though, she had no reason to hold herself away, and so much wanted to belong. But then, Raven, despite what she claimed, wanted to belong, too.

Surprised and grateful for friends, a home, and a purpose, she'd tried to settle in as a member of the team. Not surprisingly, it was hard for her. A lifetime of training in repressing her emotions and fear of what could happen if she lost control left her feeling alienated and alone, in spite of being a member of the team. She stayed physically apart from them whenever they weren't training or fighting, coming out of her room only for meals and very rare movie nights.

She rose from her lotus position and went to the chest by the wall. Touching it with her hand she thrust out a small piece of her soul-self and opened the mystic lock that kept it secure. She opened the box and looked inside. There were her "personal" things: a midnight blue nightgown that had been a Christmas gift from Starfire. She'd never worn it, but she hadn't the heart to throw it away. Then there was her own tool kit, from Cyborg, her hands being too small to comfortably use some of his tools when working on the T-car. Next came a chess set from Robin, mostly unused. After that came a giant fat chicken doll Beast Boy had won for her at the fair. She'd been quite snarky when presented with it, but then quietly stored it away rather than discard it. And then there was the penny. She wore it on a silver chain, beneath her leotard. Nobody, nobody at all knew it was there. Beastboy had given it to her for luck, on her sixteenth birthday, the day that Trigon had come to Earth. No – the day that _she_ had let Trigon come to Earth.

(Four Months Ago)

She'd done almost everything in her power to stop it. She'd run. She'd lied. She'd hidden. She'd fought battles of will against monsters and men. But in the end, she'd given up. Watching her friends battle the never-ending hoards of Trigon's monsters in her defense had been more than she could stand, and her will had failed her at the end. Rather that watch her friends continue to fight and hurt, and perhaps die, she'd taken their choice away from them, and surrendered. She'd walked into the chamber, and of her own free will, become the portal that allowed Trigon to come to Earth. In her despair she'd given them a small fragment of her power, which spared them from the fate of the rest of the people of Earth. She'd accepted her own death, and the dominion of the forces of darkness. She'd quit.

Her friends had not. No matter what she told them. No matter what she did, they never stopped fighting, though Hell had come to earth. Even when she'd imprisoned them for their own safety, they'd never stopped trying to get to her, to save her from her destiny. Even when she was thought dead, they gathered _in her name_, and fought on in her memory. Against a god. He'd shrugged off their best shots, and they'd come back for more. When, much to her surprise, she'd survived the ascent of the dark god, Robin had literally jumped into Hell to bring her back.

"You came down here for nothing," she'd said.

And he'd replied, "I came down here for you."

The other Titans had risked their lives and their sanity to buy Robin time to save her, even though she could not help them. They'd had nothing to gain, and everything to lose – but they'd still kept on fighting. And then she'd seen it. They hurt him. Oh, they weren't _winning._ Trigon was a god, and they were mortals. All the power they had together could only annoy, anger, and inconvenience him. _But he wasn't omnipotent._

_Beast Boy had said something once. At the time, it seemed one of his stupid aphorisms, but it made sense with a sudden clarity. "Raven," he'd said, "when you're going through hell . . . keep going. Sometimes the only way out . . . is through."_

With that example to follow, and Trigon's own, stupid monologue to provoke her, Raven had found the path to obliterate Trigon's vessel and send his shattered essence back to where it had come from. He would be a long time re-assembling himself, and even longer finding a way back to earth. With Trigon's destruction, the consequences of his ascent unraveled.

(Present Day)

It had been so clear on that day – victory won, the splinter of Trigon purged from her soul, she'd smiled, enjoyed the party, and even the sticky sweet French toast. She'd had her whole life ahead of her. And no idea what to do with it. But now, she was locked away as much as ever.

All of this, they had done for _her. _Why? They had rescued her from thing-hood. They'd given her a home and a purpose. When she'd lied and run away, they'd come after her. They'd refused to let her go and when she'd gone anyway, they'd come back for her. They trusted her when she hadn't trusted herself.

She stood, and walked toward the door. She paused outside her room to see Beast Boy's door. More than any other Titan, Beast Boy had tried to draw her out. To include her. To understand her. Why?

_(Four Months Ago) _

_Beast Boy felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Trigon had unleashed an enormous fire bolt that had washed over the entire team. The stench of hell-come-to-earth filled his nostrils as his mind screamed at him to get up and fight. But he couldn't move. Then he caught her scent. It was different. The juvenile remnant of Raven smelled like the little girl she was. Trigon's advent had drained her of her years of experience, leaving her a child of about the age of nine. Beast Boy struggled to open his eyes just as her shield faded away, revealing the towering demon. Raven had saved them, again. She looked at her own hands, startled. Trigon spoke._

_"You are no threat to me, little girl. You survive only because I allow it. What hope can a child have of defeating her all-powerful father?"_

_White ball-lightning began to pulse around the little girl as she spoke, rising from her kneeling position. "You may have created me . . ."_

_The white light flared and dimmed. Her scent had changed again, and the little girl's voice was gone, replaced by Raven's normal contralto. ". . . But you were never my father!" _

_Watching Raven kick Trigon's butt all by herself had been awesome, majorly cool, and a little scary. After so much effort and pain, it was over very suddenly. Afterwards, Beast Boy stood and watched as she hugged Robin. _

_"Are you really . . . 'you'?" Beast Boy asked._

_The ears can hear lies. The eye can be deceived. But the nose, KNOWS. _

_"RAVEN!" he shouted, and threw his arms around her, inhaling deeply._

_"Quit it."_

(Present Day)

"Maybe," Raven thought, "just maybe, all that poking, prying and intruding didn't mean he thought she was something entertaining to poke at. Maybe it meant that he is interested in knowing who I am. Why?"


	10. Taking Wing Above and Delving Below

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs –

The Cretin – Humble name there. Thanks.

Annab1119 – No problem. I'm glad ou like the pacing. There are a few more flashbacks coming, but we will being dipping our toes more and more into the Present Day in this and future chapters.

JOHNXgambit – You've got a point with Raven and the Kids. Before I advance too much after The End, I think I should probably revisit "Hide and Seek."

Jazzybizzle – Glad you like it. More present day goodness to come.

I'm back at work, busily grinding out plot and character development for which I will never be paid, except in the form of your reviews and favorites. I took a short break to write the one shot, Love in the Library. You might want to take a look at it if you really like this pairing. My other piece on this pairing is Raven's Wedding, but it's actually alluded to in both Behind Robin's Mask and Extreme Sanction.

* * *

This Morning

Spring had come to Jump City and with it the rich, intoxicating scents of new life. Spring every year was a challenge for Beast Boy – the instincts of all of the animals buried deep within his DNA clamored for release. Just sitting in the common room, minding his own business, he kept finding himself staring at Starfire if she happened to walk by. She had always smelled nice, but now it was . . . compelling. But Starfire was nothing compared to Raven. If Raven walked into a room, her scent grabbed his attention in a headlock, and simply would not let go. He couldn't concentrate on video games if she was in the room. His games with Cyborg went from regularly getting beat to persistent and total abject humiliation. Like today. He'd spent all week mastering Super Spider Monkey 17 and had Cyborg pinned down on the 34 level with his 16th Dan Space Samurai Ninja when Raven walked into the room. He had recognized her footsteps from across the room, past the kitchen and down the hall. He heard the doors open and could immediately tell her scent. He tried to focus on the game, keeping Cyborg at a disadvantage. Raven got up and went to brew tea. Her scent wafted over him again. It was all he could do to not turn his head and watch. He focused in on Super Spider Monkey: Cyborg had made a mistake. All he had to do was line him up and . . .

Raven crossed behind the couch again. Without thinking he whipped his head around to watch her pace across the room.

"Ha!" laughed Cyborg as he whipped his spider monkey adroitly around Beast Boy's Ninja and on to victory. "Taste the agony of defeat, Grass Stain!"

"Raven!" shouted Beast Boy, "Look what you made me do!"

"Me?" said Raven, flatly. "I wasn't anywhere near you."

"But . . ." Beast Boy said, and gave up. Nobody else on the team even had a nose. Not really. They'd never understand. But it was all her fault. He stomped out of the room in disgust.

What happened a few days later was worse. The team had been involved with the H.I.V.E. Five in a full-contact, knock-down, drag-out winner take all fight. Beast Boy, in his T-Rex form had been supporting Cyborg in an engagement with Mammoth when he had noticed Raven being menaced by two of Billy Numerous.

He transformed into his human shape and shouted "Raven!" at the top of his lungs. Then he transformed into a mongoose to race across the street to fight with Billy and his clones. In the process, he dropped Cyborg about fifteen feet onto his butt in the middle of the street. Mammoth had taken advantage of the distraction to snatch up a light pole and baseball bat Cyborg several blocks away. Cyborg had been hurt, and the HIVE gang had gotten away with the loot, vanishing into the city night. Robin had not been pleased.

"What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?" Robin's eyes narrowed behind his mask.

"I don't know," Beast Boy shouted his hands on his head. "I don't know," he repeated more softly. "I just saw those two of Billy Numerous closing in on her –"

"Don't give me that," Robin interrupted, "Numerous is a D-list bad guy. Raven could handle eight of him on a bad day. If she was on her game, twenty or thirty of him, and you know it. What's going on with you? Your goofing around is putting the team at risk."

"I'm not goofing around!"

"I don't care what you call it. I just need your head in the game before you get someone seriously hurt. Or worse. Whatever's going on with you, _fix it."_

Dejected and angry, Beast Boy made his way to Cyborg's bed in the medical ward. The tall half-human lay on a specially-designed hospital bed that more accurately resembled a forklift. He was sitting up, idly surfing the web when Beast Boy quietly stood at the door. The fading sunlight cast sharp shadows across the floor.

"Dude," he said, "I'm sorry."

"C'mon in. It's okay. I know you didn't do it on purpose. But, man, what's going on with you?"

"I don't know."

It didn't take too many more miss-steps like that before Beast Boy pulled Robin aside. "Um, Robin, will you meet me on the roof?"

Robin nodded, and the two of them went to the roof of Titan Tower. The sea breeze blew steadily against Beast Boy's face as he looked out over the bay toward the large suspension bridge.

"Dude," he said, "I think I'm going to have to take a leave of absence."

"I see," said Robin. "I think that's a good idea. The team will miss you."

"Not likely."

"Beast Boy, you're the soul of the team. You and Cyborg keep us grounded."

"Well, right now I'm just keeping you 'ground up.'"

Robin asked, "So, how long do you think you'll need."

"I'm not sure," the boy said. "Don't expect to hear from me for, say, at least a year."

"That long, eh?"

"I think so," replied Beast Boy. "I don't know what's wrong with me, so I don't know how long it will take me to fix it."

He turned away, then looked back, eyes as wide as the day the two had met. "I can come back, right?"

"Of course," said Robin. "You'll always be a Titan."

"Thanks."

He turned away and stepped to the edge of the Tower.

"Not going to say good-bye to the others?"

"I think that would just make it worse. I'll be in touch."

Beast Boy shifted into the form of a large bird and flew away to the northeast.

The common room was the largest, most open space in the Titan Tower. With floor to ceiling windows facing the bay, the room was dominated by a semi-circular couch. The rest of the room had a food preparation area on along one wall and tables along the other one. Various computer workstations and assorted communications gear could also be found around the upper layer of the room. Raven's face was unmoved when Robin told them. But four computer consoles shattered.

"How could he just _leave_ like that," she thought. "Without even saying 'good-bye to everyone . . . to me?'"

"Is he at least gonna write?" asked Cyborg

"I kinda got the impression that where he's going, there's no email," Robin answered.

"I do not understand, please," said Starfire. "Why has friend Beast Boy left us? Where has he gone? Who will pick the scary movies? Who will tell the jokes? Who will argue with Cyborg about the morning tofu?"

"Well Star," Robin tried, "He wasn't fitting in anymore, and was very unhappy. Worse, he was so distracted he was putting the team in danger. He's gone to try to get his head together. I don't know where he went, or when he is coming back, but he did want me to promise he'd have a home here when he got back. Just as soon as he figures out who he is."

"And did you make the coming-home promise?" sniffed Starfire.

"Of course I did."

That night, Raven turned and walked down the darkened corridors of the Tower, toward the elevator. She'd not be disturbed at this hour unless there was an alert. "They gave all of this to me freely, without being asked and asking for nothing in return. How have I repaid them? Sarcasm, distance, closed doors, lies and deceit. I even threw Beast Boy out of the thirtieth floor window of Titan Tower."

She got into the elevator and descended.

"It's time to make a change," she thought. "And not just because I owe them more than I've been willing to give. I was a thing for so long. And a dangerous thing at that. Then I was a hero. I've done some good, and I want to be able to feel proud of that. I told Trigon that my friends had raised me. And so they have. They've raised me from a dangerous thing to a real person, actual, and almost whole."

The elevator doors opened. She move to the stairs and descended again. "I want to feel proud of my accomplishments," she thought. "I want to feel love for my friends. I want to feel fear on stormy nights and warm comfort at Christmastime."

"It's time to _feel._

She stood outside the door to the Fail Safe room. Another gift, her friends had built this room for her in an effort to keep her safe from Trigon. Cyborg had boasted that nothing alive could penetrate the room, and Starfire had claimed that the sigils would keep everything else out. It might have worked, if she'd stayed inside. But now she would put it to a different purpose. What was designed to keep something out, would now keep something else in. She laid her hand on the access panel, which chirped in recognition. The heavy doors slid open.

"I should have told someone about this. I'm probably about to do something stupid."

She walked to the center of the room and sat down on the floor. The doors hissed closed. She started to bend her legs into the lotus position, the stopped.

"No – I'm not going to meditate. That's for holding on. It's time to let go."

She bent her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Now what? What to feel?"

She sat there silently for several minutes.

"Well, when you don't know what else to do, return to the beginning."

"Mother . . ." she said softly, and she bowed her head on her arms. Raven wept.


	11. A Long Year In A Quiet Tower

Author's Notes:

JazzyBizzle – You're welcome. He couldn't tell people how he was feeling because he didn't know.

Annab1119 – Glad you liked it. But I thought it was clear why he left. Not fitting in. Unable to concentrate. Causing more problems that he was solving. Constantly pissing Raven off. But mostly because it's the first step necessary to get a dude out of the Friend Zone.

Nicoletteschmidt1 – Thanks; I'm flattered. I'm eager to see where it all goes, too. I mean, I have a plan, but more than once, when I've sat at the Keyboard, the story's gone where it wanted, not where I pointed it.

Jimmy – Comes of having had my level of life experience. People just don't fall into each other's arms. It takes a while.

This is your first real "M" warning. While Raven may or may not have had the back of her and brushed by "something" when she was showering with Beast Boy, this chapter has a scene that gets pretty explicit. If that sort of thing bothers you, you might want to skip it. But then, you'll miss all kinds of changes.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

"Where's Raven?" asked Cyborg the next morning at breakfast.

"I haven't seen her either," said Robin. "She's probably still in her room."

"Oh dear," said Starfire. "Usually if Friend Raven is not out of her room by this hour, she may not emerge for days. I shall go see her."

But before Starfire could reach the door, Raven entered. Her eyes were bloodshot, and had circles under them. Her grey skin was discolored. She looked exhausted and almost feverish. Her face was slightly swollen and her hands were shaking.

"Raven," said Robin carefully, "is everything . . . ok? You look, um, pale-er."

She looked up, her hair across her face. A tiny smile quirked one corner of her mouth. "Oh, everything is ok. It's more than ok. Starfire . . ." Raven turned. "I'd like to talk to you after breakfast about some . . . girl talk."

Much later.

"Friend Raven," said Starfire, "This is _not_ the girl talk. This is . . . serious. I do not think that I am the best person to help you. I – I do not know _anything_ about earthly emotions. I cannot even understand _Robin._"

"Don't be ridiculous. Don't forget, I've _been_ you. Well, sort of. You can easily display joy, boundless confidence, and righteous fury, to fly, fight, and throw your starbolts. I've done it myself that time we switched bodies," said Raven.

"On my planet, we live by our emotions, not our intellect. From our earliest age we are encouraged to feel our passions. It is from them that we draw our strength and our power. You have been trained from birth to do just the opposite. I do not see how . . ."

Raven interrupted. "Starfire – when you call up your righteous fury in combat, you don't just spray your starbolts out of your hands constantly. You can call on your power and hold it in. Whenever I start to feel things . . . _my _power gets . . . loose." She folded her arms protectively over herself.

"But I . . ."

Raven looked down at the floor, and spoke again. "Starfire. I mourned my mother for the first time last night. She's been dead since I was a young child."

"Oh Raven, you have been carrying that pain around for all this time?" Starfire's emerald eyes welled with tears.

"I finally let it out last night in the Failsafe Room. It went pretty well, actually." She looked up. "I only scorched the walls a little. Listen, I'm a pretty disciplined student. I know that if I could just find a starting place . . ."

She stepped forward and caught the taller girl by the shoulders. "Please help me. I'm sixteen years old. And I don't know how to _feel." _

Starfire looked into Raven's Amethyst eyes and said, "I will try."

At Raven's insistence, the two girls walked down into the core of Titan Tower, returning to the Fail Safe room. Starfire examined the burn marks on the walls from Raven's mourning the previous night. She rubbed at one.

"This is not as bad as I thought. It is just a little soot. Why are the walls not scored?"

"I don't know. It may be the sigils you guys put up to keep Trigon out. Or it may be that after all this time, my pain over my mother's death has gotten smaller."

"Oh no, Friend Raven, here is lesson one – when you lock feelings away, they get stronger, not weaker."

"Ok. So – what do we do now?"

"When you taught me to meditate, you spoke of finding your center, yes?"

"Uh huh."

The both sat down on the floor.

"Feelings are mostly made up of memories. Emotions you have on the spot are just memories you are making right now. Do you understand?"

"I think so," she said.

"Let us begin small – think of something pleasant. Something that happened to you that led to a positive outcome. You have always had feelings, yes? So go back in your mind to the time when you had them, and think about them again. Picture them as an egg, with a hard shell. We wish to crack the shell around the memory open, and let the good feelings out. Have you such a small, positive memory?"

"It's strange," Raven thought. "The first thing to pop to mind is Beast Boy."

She spoke, "I remember that time Beast Boy brought me the Earl Grey-tea flavored ice cream. I tasted awful, but it was very nice of him to think to buy it for me." She looked at the floor again. I was pretty mean about it when I tasted it. But it was so _foul._ I thought he was playing a prank on me."

"All right," said Starfire. "Picture the egg shell cracking open, and the feeling slowing coming out."

Raven closed her eyes and formed the picture in her mind. She began to remember the date.

_Three Years Ago_

_"Hey Raven, we're back from the store!" Beast Boy's voice rang from the front door of the common room. Raven squeaked, startled, and dropped her book, a very rare partial copy of the Endrial Verses, cracking the spine. She sighed and picked it back up off the floor._

_"I'll alert the media," she said, flatly._

_"Oh Raven, don't __**be**_ _like that. Look what I found!" He ran across the Tower common room and proudly placed a carton of ice cream on the counter. "Check it out – Earl Grey tea flavored ice cream! _

Present Day

"Now," Starfire continued, "As the feeling comes out, you should feel a very small flush of warmth, usually starting at the base of your neck, or perhaps your stomach. It will spread out slowly. Physically, you should feel your muscles relax just a little bit, and your heart rate may go up or down, slightly."

As Starfire described the sensations, Raven felt them running through her body. Her lips began to spread in to a small smile. She remembered the expression on Beast Boy's face as he'd proudly presented the ice cream.

_Three Years Ago _

_"Beast Boy," she'd said, "Earl Grey is savory tea, not a sweet one. It's not usually served with sugar. I don't think it would make a very good ice cream."_

_She might as well have been talking to the wind. It had ended like her encounters with Beast Boy always did. He didn't hear a word she said, and when she opened her mouth to speak again, he stuck a big spoonful of the grey and white mess into her mouth. It had been truly vile. She bit down, choked, gagged, crossed her eyes, and swallowed. Tears welled up as her taste buds rebelled._

_"Very funny Beast Boy," she snarled, "What are you trying to do, _poison me_!?"_

_He'd shrunk away, embarrassed. She snatched up her book and stalked out. _

_"Raven wait . . ." but the door slid shut on his protestations. _

Present Day

How happy he'd seemed when he'd opened it. And how appalled he was when he saw the expression on her face. There was a sharp crack, as Raven's eyes flew open and a small black bolt flashed from the stone she wore on her Sixth Chakra toward Starfire's face. The redhead snapped up her hand and blocked the crackle of dark energy without much effort.

"Umm . . . maybe you should go outside while I do this."

Starfire smiled. "I am stronger than I look. And I am confident that you will not harm me."

And so it went. For an hour, Raven searched her memory for small happy moments: the time they'd escaped Mumbo's hat, the time Beast Boy had tried to cheer her up by turning into an emerald raven, the time Starfire had learned to meditate. But at the end of the hour, it was a little startling how many moments involved Beast Boy.

"That is probably enough for today. You will not overcome the training and habits of a lifetime in one session. This will take much work on our part."

"Thank you, Starfire. I didn't know where else to turn."

"It is what friends do."

And so the months passed. Hero work in Jump City never stops, but sometimes it slows down, especially in the winter months. As the holiday season approached there had been no word from Beast Boy. Raven had at first enjoyed the quiet in the tower as the holidays approached without Beast Boy's childlike and noisy enthusiasm for the holiday season. But as the days went by, she found herself unable to concentrate. Each time she began to become focused, she'd find herself waiting for the interruptions he would bring to her reading, meditation, and study. Oddly, she made less academic progress now that he was gone.

"Can I actually be missing him?" she thought.

Raven had more time to focus on letting go without cutting loose. She spent time daily in "non-meditation," slowly learning to draw on her feelings without letting her power loose. At first she made slow progress, and it was reflected in her friendships. Other things became more apparent in a more dramatic fashion.

Raven stepped into the shower, her back to the showerhead, and let the water soak through her plum-colored hair and sluice down her back. One of the benefits of having a small reactor in the basement and a desalination plant on the island: never, ever running out of hot water. The bathroom filled with thick, rolling steam as Raven began to lather her hair. The heat soaked into her typically chill body as Raven began to relax under the thick streams of water pouring over her. One of the downsides to becoming more in touch with her feelings was that she, well, felt more. Pain used to be just a signal that something was wrong. Now it, well, hurt. Now the soreness from Robin's ever more aggressive training sessions nagged at her mind and colored her mood. The hot water and pounding stream from the showerhead felt good. It felt _real_ good. She stretched and rolled her shoulders. Beads of water clung to her curves as condensation gathered on all the walls of the room.

Raven was a girl, but she'd never paid much attention to the fact. She'd been confident that she would be alone all her life, and her emotions had been so repressed that she'd never paid any more attention to her lady parts than you'd pay to the back of your neck. Were they clean? Good enough, and she moved on. But this time, when Raven finished her shampoo and turned around to allow the water to strike her torso, she jerked backwards. It was like an electric shock had run through her groin, causing her to bend almost double in surprise.

"Ah," she gasped. "What the hell was that?"

Now, Raven had read plenty about human physiology. You couldn't be a useful healer without a good working knowledge of how the body worked, so she knew all about human female plumbing. She'd also read about masturbation when she was younger, but her early explorations had produced a response that was indifferent to non-existent. But Raven was unique. She'd just assumed that demons weren't wired the same way, and that her mons wasn't going to work. But this? This was _different._ She slowly slid her soapy hands along her stomach, past her navel. Her fingers slipped over the sparse purple hair and down her mons, cautiously searching for the little button there.

"Ah!" she said again. It wasn't nearly as intense as last time. "Ooooh.

She gently stroked it with her soapy fingers, the digits sliding back and forth in the warm humid air of the room. Sparks of sensation shot through her body. Her body shivered as the little jolts got longer. With the last one, she held her breath until the tingling stopped. She stood up, dizzy. Her little button had become so sensitive she couldn't touch it any more.

"Well," she thought, "that was interesting. And new. Now I have some idea what the big deal is."

"Hey Raven," said Cyborg one morning not too soon afterward. I'll be out of the way in a sec – you can put your teapot on as soon as the ham and eggs are done."

"Actually," Raven said, sitting down at the table, "I was wondering if I might have a few eggs with you."

Cyborg stopped and slowly turned to look at her. She looked away slightly and turned slight purple and she blushed maroon under her blue-grey skin.

"Sure – it'll be just a minute, unless you'd prefer waffles."

"Maybe . . . tomorrow. A couple of eggs would be just fine."

Robin was also a little startled to see Raven sitting at the breakfast table dining with Cyborg. "Hey Raven – not eating in your room today?"

"Not today. Time for eggs, with my friends, by the big window."

"Okay then."

From then on, she had breakfast with her friends more or less every morning. It wasn't universally fun or pleasant, but it was always great to see Starfire's smiling face. After a few weeks, she couldn't imagine living any other way. The only thing really missing was Beast Boy's toothy grin. No matter what she said or did, he had never seemed to lack a reason to give her one.

She still had to meditate to keep her powers under control, but when she was able to spend more time in the company of her friends, and to enjoy some of the basic delights of life and living. One morning, late after breakfast, there was a sharp knock at her door. The loud clang meant it was neither Robin nor Starfire.

"Cyborg?" Cyborg _never_ bothered her in her room.

"Hey Raven," he said as the door opened.

"Um . . . hello. Why are you here?" She blushed and tried again, "I mean, you never come here. What brings you to my room?"

"I know what you're doing Raven."

She colored again. "What?"

"You're somehow trying to let your emotions out. A little bit at a time, maybe, instead of keeping 'em all locked up all the time."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you've been a little hard on the light bulbs and the electronics this summer."

"Sorry . . ."

"Don't be. It's been worth a truckload of light bulbs to see you smile. But I'm bettin' it's been pretty hard on your stuff. Your books and things."

Raven looked around her room. Still dark and creepy, it was beginning to look a little spartan. She'd lost a lot of her books, at least two mirrors, and most of the decorations in her room since she'd started down this path.

"Kinda."

"I've got a Christmas present for you. Don't know how well it's gonna work."

Cyborg leaned back out the door and brought in a strange looking wire cage. Inside was a spectacular crystal snowflake. The candlelight in her room flickered off of the thousands of faceted surfaces. It was translucent. The candlelight turned it into an amber fire inside the cage.

"It's pretty," she said. "What is it."

"A target."

"A target?"

"Sure. I don't know a whole lot about how your powers work. You won't let me study them. But I do know that's when you feel your emotions, they leak out through your powers. And break something. I'm giving you something to break."

"Cyborg, that's . . . too pretty to just smash because my . . . head is leaking."

"Nah," he said, as he leaned out the door and brought in three more. "They're easy to grow, and don't take long. I've already put up eight in the common room, four in the trophy room, and there's one in every corridor in the building. I thought about growing something really, really strong. But then I thought that you'd probably break it anyway, and these are much quicker to grow."

He walked around the room, putting the cages in the corners out of the way, but visible.

"The stainless steel cages will contain any fragments or dust when you break them. Just bring them to the garage when you break one, and I'll show you how to put them in the incubator to grow a replacement. I was also able to tune the harmonics to the dark energy you use. They'll attract your stray power bolts to them. You still ought to aim them when you can, though."

"I – I don't know how to thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me. It was Beast Boy's idea. I just handled the details."

"Beast Boy?" The red jewel Raven wore on her seventh Chakra flared, and black lightning shot out, shattering the crystal Cyborg held in his hands.

"Sorry," she said, looking down.

"No problem," he replied, reaching down the a case on the floor behind him. "I brought a spare. Merry Christmas, Raven."

She surprised him with one of her rare hugs. His hands hovered over her shoulders as though he was unsure what to do with them. Finally he patted her shoulders and squeezed.

"It's not the same without him, is it?" he asked.

"No," she said, her voice muffled by his chest. "No. It's not. Cyborg?" she asked, "Did Beast Boy leave because of me? I know I'm very . . . hard to be around. I didn't mean for him to leave entirely."

"No Raven, I don't know what was going on in that green bean he calls a brain, but I do know that it was all about him, and had nothing to do with you."

Paste your document here...


	12. A Scent of Raven

Author's Notes:

theVillage1diot: Dude. The story will still be here after the test. Focus. And don't wonder whether a given recently posted chapter has a first kiss. Or an epic fight. Or a lemon. Don't let that prey on your mind at all. J

Jazzybizzle: The targets will function as a fail safe. At least inside the Tower, Raven will be able to work on feeling more freely without the added stress of breaking random stuff. Except when things get really intense.

JohnXGambit: I dunno. We may see some dream-eating, or maybe Raven's half brothers, yet.

Kurai Ai 1809: Well, speedwise I cheat. I can generally only manage about a thousand words a day or so. But I'm way ahead. I've got 48,000 words already written, so I can generally publish something on schedule, even if I don't have time to write.

Annab1119: Cute? I was going for poignant. Oh well.

I hope to answer a few questions in this chapter, and generate a few more. Time is passing, and nobody stays a young teen forever. Where has Beast Boy been and what has he been doing? Why did he have to leave? Has the problem been solved? Eh. Sorta.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

The sun shone down on the Bay at Jump City. The waters reflected the crystal clear blue sky with scattered diamonds of light. White, puffy clouds scudded across the sky in the chill morning air. The friends gathered in the common room after breakfast as Robin reviewed the police blotter from the night before. Cyborg was at a computer console, checking the software updates for some of the Titan Tower systems. Starfire gazed out the window over the city while Raven read quietly on the couch. There could be no better example of a routine morning in Titan Tower.

Starfire broke the silence. "It is almost a year to the day that Friend Beast Boy left on his quest of the spirit. Tell me Cyborg, you are a human male. How long do these quests last? For what is he looking? When will he return home?"

He swiveled around to face her. "Star – I don't know. Not all guys do this, but some feel the need to make a change in their teenage years. In Australia, they call it "going walkabout." In England, there some young people take a year between school and college to travel. They call it a 'gap year.' Some Native American men went on what they called a 'spirit quest.' For most guys, it's a little later, and not so extreme. But it's usually about trying to figure out who they are going to be."

Robin joined in. "At the end of adolescence, many humans go through a transitional stage. Most of who they are going to be is already built inside of them by how they were raised. But as they become adults, the sometimes need to get away from the people who think of them as children, and treat them as such, so that they can . . . sort of integrate all of that stuff into who they are going to be as an adult."

"Yeah," said Cyborg, "Most of them return to their old lives, but it won't be quite the same. We've all grown and changed."

"Well," said Raven, "Beast Boy sure had a lot of room for growth."

Starfire lowered her voice. "Robin – are you also going to leave us while you do the 'finding of yourself?'"

Robin looked up from the police reports and arched an eyebrow.

Before he could speak, Cyborg interrupted. "Don't worry about that Star. If there's one thing Robin knows, it's who he is, and where he's going. I've seen power stations less grounded than he is. He might go tearing out of here in pursuit of a crime boss, but if there's one thing he doesn't need to figure out, it's who he is."

She smiled, reassured, and turned back to the window. Suddenly, she squinted and leaned forward, pressing her nose against the glass.

"Large green sea birds are not common to this area, are they?"

"What – you see something?" said Cyborg, standing up abruptly.

"I think Beast Boy is coming home!" she replied happily.

Unnoticed by the others, Raven dropped her book, her face taking on a momentary look of shock.

Robin jumped up from his seat. "I'm going up to the roof. If it's Beast Boy, I want to welcome him home."

Raven watched as the other three Titans hurried from the room. She slowly stood and followed them. All four of the team looked upward, scanning the western sky, Raven standing a little apart, by the door to the stairs. High above, an emerald albatross circled once then wheeled over and began to descend. As it fell, it changed shape, wings shrinking, and chest drawing in. Faster and faster it stooped. When it seem as though it couldn't fail to impact the roof of the tower, it flared its wings, revealing an emerald falcon. Without quite touching down, the bird morphed again, and Beast Boy stood before them, his feet making a soft crunch as they gently touched the roof.

Cyborg had been prophetic. Still emerald green, Beast Boy stood several inches taller. Raven blinked. The lanky youth was gone. The young man standing on the asphalt roof would never be winning any body-building championships, but his frame displayed a layer of firm-looking muscle. Raven's fingers twitched. Beast Boy stepped forward toward Robin, who extended his hand. One thing hadn't changed. Beast Boy's face split into a toothy grin as he bypassed the hand and swept Robin up into a powerful bear hug, metaphorically speaking.

"Welcome home," said Robin, pounding him on the back.

Beast Boy leaned back and said, "It's good to be home. It's still home, isn't it?"

"Of course. You took a leave of absence, it's not like you quit the team."

A red-haired wrecking ball separated them, as Starfire flung her arms around him, squealing, "Beast Boy! You have found the spirit of your quest? Your head is not apart anymore? You will stay?"

Beast Boy's grin got even wider. "It's not Beast Boy anymore, Star. They call me Changeling now. And I haven't found all of my answers, Star, but yeah, if there's still a place for me here, I've come home to stay."

Raven looked at him from the door. The shaggy do was gone. Instead, his hair was parted and a little wavy. His old black-and-purple Doom Patrol uniform was gone, too. In place was a form fitting scarlet and white jumpsuit. She wiped her hands self-consciously on her cloak.

"Good to see you, Grass Stain. Where you been?" asked Cyborg.

"Eh, that's a long story. Maybe later. It was a long flight. Is there any breakfast left?" He asked.

"Well," said Cyborg, "There's some cold stuff in the fridge, but we're out of tofu. Haven't kept it around since you left."

"I'll make do," said Changeling.

The four of them moved toward the stairwell where Raven waited. Changeling stopped in front of her as she raised a hand.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello Raven," he replied. "It's good to see you again."

"My name is Rav-"She stopped. He'd used her full name, not some juvenile nickname. "I, ah, it's good to see you too. You look . . . healthy."

"Thanks. You don't look like you've changed a bit."

The group all piled into the common room and sat down while Changeling rooted around in the refrigerator. A shocked silence fell as they watched him slap together a cold egg sandwich and some sliced ham. The Titans just stared.

"Don't start," he said. "I still like tofu, and I eat plenty of it."

"So why the change salad-head?" asked Cyborg.

"I wintered with a wolf pack in the Cascade mountain range. Not much tofu out there," he said.

"You spent the winter with a wolf pack?" said Robin.

"I did. But first I joined the salmon run in November. Now _that_ had its drawbacks. Did you know that once the run starts, those dudes don't eat again? Ever? They swim upstream, spawn, and _die._"

"But, please Beast Boy –"Starfire began.

"Changeling," he interrupted, "please."

"Changeling. Why were you spawning with the fish?"

Changeling cleared his throat. "To be clear, star, I didn't _spawn._ But I did join the upstream run. I was learning, Star, I was learning." He looked around and saw that all of his teammates were watching with rapt attention. "Okay," he said, "I guess we can do this now."

He took a gulp of milk. "When I left, I spent the first few days alone. I morphed into an albatross because I'd read somewhere that they could fly long distances without stopping. But after the first day I realized that I didn't really know the first thing about being an albatross. My parents died shortly after I became Beast Boy, and they certainly didn't let me live as an animal more than a few minutes or hours at a time. Then I was with a court appointed guardian for a while, and then the Doom Patrol. There wasn't any time to learn. So I started seeking out animals to learn from. Like I said, I wintered with that wolf pack. Then I shadowed a family of cougars for a couple of months. I spent several weeks with a convocation of eagles and one time snuck into a hive of ants, and a whole lot of other animals. That sort of thing. I learned a lot about being an animal and it taught me a lot about being myself."

It was later, that evening after dinner that Robin caught Changeling in the gym. Robin was surprised to find him in human form, by one of the kung-fu dummies. He watched as Changelings hands flickered over the dummy. His gauntleted hands were a blur as he beat a rapid tattoo on the dummy's head, arms and shoulders. He spun on his heel and kicked the dummy in the head, one, two, three, four times, delivering butterfly kicks with accuracy and carefully controlled force. He stepped back from the dummy and turned.

"Hey Robin," he said. "What's up?"

"How did you know I was here?"

Changeling pointed to his nose. "You've changed your brand of hair gel, but I can still tell it's you."

Robin colored. "Changeling," he said, "Finding yourself is all well and good, but I need some assurance that you've solved the problems that took you away in the first place. When you left, you were pretty dangerous, and you didn't even know what the problem was."

Changeling rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Uh, yeah," he said. "It's solved."

"So . . . do I have to _order_ you to tell me what was going on? Or should I get Raven in her to poke around in your brain?"

"NO! Wait, Dude, she can do that?"

"No, but spill it."

"Okay, okay," he said. "It's just kind of embarrassing now that I know what it is."

"I won't tell anybody."

"Thanks. It really comes down to my instincts. I don't know how much of this will make sense to you. You're so . . . . normal. Instincts are coded in animals DNA, and when I transform, I do it all the way down to the DNA level. When I transform back, it doesn't all go away. Parts of the animals stay with me all the time. In the fall, I have bird instincts that urge me to go south for the winter. But I also have wolf instincts that tell me to stay with my pack. And that's on top of the bear instincts that tell me to get fat and fall asleep for four months!"

"I didn't know that about you. It sounds hard."

"Nobody does. I don't like to talk about it. When I was younger, I was afraid people would treat me like an animal, and not a person. Anyway, when I was a kid, it wasn't so bad. But it had been getting worse for a while. Last year it really came to a head. I did tell you that even in my human form, I have enhanced senses, right? I mean, I can't see in the dark as well as a cat, but I can see better than most humans. Likewise, I can't hear as well as a bat or a fox, but I can hear better than most humans. Follow?"

"I get it," Robin replied. "What does that have to do with . . ."

"I'm getting there," interrupted Changeling. "Just stay with me for a minute and it will all make sense." He tapped his nose. "I don't have the scent discrimination of a bloodhound, but I've got a nose that's _way_ more sensitive than a normal humans. For example, you always smell of hair gel and sweat."

"Sorry," Robin said, frowning.

"Don't get me wrong. You don't stink. But training is so much of a part of who you are that the scent is ingrained in you. It's like the color of your skin, or the shape of your head. Just part of who you are. Cyborg always smells like axle grease. And bacon. Or axle grease and waffles. Or axle grease and barbeque or . . ."

"I get it," said Robin.

Changeling rubbed the back of his head again, and turned away, swiping in a desultory manner at the heavy bag. "Which brings me to the girls."

"What about them?"

"Well," he said, his face blushing khaki brown, "they smell _really_ good. Starfire smells like spring rain, wildflowers, and those weird zorka berries from Tameran. Raven – she smells like candles and books and musk and . . . .

"Get. To. The Point."

"I can smell their menses, okay?" Changeling suddenly blurted.

"You can smell . . . wait. What?"

"I can smell when they are fertile. When they're ready to, um, reproduce. Their scents change."

Robins face turned bright red. "Right, um, so, how do you get from zorkaberries to 'Starfire's fertile'?"

"It's more complicated than that. The girls actually smell . . . English doesn't have the right vocabulary to describe it. But trust me. Starfire smells good all the time. But Raven . . . Raven is, well, spellbinding. And when they're . . . ready, it becomes so intense that they might as well be shouting at me. And that was what was wrong with me. In addition to all those other instincts, I have monkey ones. Monkey instincts were _screaming_ at me that it was time to, um, mate."

Robin didn't say anything. He just stared.

"It was kind of funny, really," Changeling continued, turning away. "Something was compelling me to follow poor Raven around. I must have driven her insane. And I knew I wanted something. I just didn't realize what it was. Did you know that I thought I was hungry? That's one of the reasons I was eating all the time."

"Is this gonna be a problem in the future?"

Changeling turned and faced Robin, looking him directly in the eye. "No," he said, shaking his head, "It's not. In the end, I'm _not_ an animal. I'm a man. Men harness theirs. My _brain_ tells me that neither of the girls is interested in me that way, so it doesn't matter what the monkeys in my cells want. It won't cause any trouble for the team."

And it didn't. As time passed, it was clear that neither Raven nor Starfire found Changeling underfoot. The change was subtle, but profound. He still played video games with Cyborg, trained in the simulator, and ate almost exclusively vegetarian, but Raven no longer tripped over him every time she turned around. Sure, there was conflict. If she was trying to read in the common room and he turned on the PlayStation, she barked at him. If she didn't show up for movie night, he stood at her door and wheedled until she came out. But the constant shouts of "Beast Boy, get out of my way," were gone. In the field it was even better. Changeling was focused and on the ball. He was always in position and supported all four of his teammates equally. His time among the wild animals had sharpened his skills and his reflexes were better than ever. And if Robin noticed that Changeling always seemed to sit closer to Raven than to any of the others at meals or in the car, he saw no reason to mention it.


	13. The Rift

Author's Notes:

First the shout-outs –

Katwizzle – I'm glad you liked it. I seem to achieve "cute" a lot. This one gets pretty dark. Hopefully you'll like it, even if there isn't much cute. Nobody covers themselves in glory in this one.

LadyFelton1994 – Thanks for reading. Right now it looks like I'm updating 3x a week, but my stats don't seem to be increasing, so I may take a few shortcuts and wrap this up pretty soon.

Jimmy – I have an end in mind, but I'm actually not being very disciplined. I have certain scenes in my head that I want to write, and I'm having to force the story to fit them a little bit. That's one of the reasons the whole seems disjointed. And often a scene takes off in a direction I'm not expecting. In this episode, for example, Changeling really startled me when he jumped off the building. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

RandomDalmation326 – Thanks for readin.

Nique – Not sure what you mean by "too sloshing," but yeah, these kids have a long way to go. They're still very young, and don't have much life experience. Especially Raven.

Katwizzle – Soon? Not too. First we have to finish moving Changeling out of the Friend Zone. Only then can we proceed with Romance.

Jazzybizzle – There's interactions a plenty in this chapter. I'm just afraid no one is going to like them. Life is not a bed of roses.

Johnxgambit – I don't know about sucking amazingly. Now that he knows what's going on, Changeling is going to be able to interpret scent a lot better than when he was a kid. Maybe he'll be able to tell when girls are merely feigning indifference. Boy, if I'd been able to tell when girls were actually interested and not just yanking my chain, my life would have been really different. But then, just being able to detect menses doesn't really mean he can detect interest. But at least he's unlikely to participate in an unplanned pregnancy. Or unplanned by him, anyway. Or am I just messing with you?

Thanks to everybody who takes the time to review or favorite this story. As I've mentioned before, your comments and the hit counts are the only payment I get. This chapter is a little darker. I hope nobody was expecting the opening up of the vaults of Raven's emotions to be a bed of roses with no thorns. All actions have consequences and every upside has a downside. Read on, if you dare.

* * *

Changeling's new-found confidence and poise useful in other ways as well. When the Titan's battled meta-human threats, it tended to be hard on the furniture. Falling monsters and heavy vehicles regularly damaged businesses and homes. While the Titans worked very hard to minimize the damages to both public and private property, sooner or later in every battle, Raven would have to grab the nearest car and fling it at a bad guy. And when she did, it always seemed to be a Mercedes or a BMW. Or worse, some poor single mother of two's only way to get back and forth to work. Robin's break with his mentor, while harsh, had not been complete. The Titans had access to a Wayne Enterprises fund to help people whose lives were interrupted by meta-human activity. In some cases, the City also helped meet those needs as well. But money alone was not enough, and it was vital that the people of Jump City saw the Titans as an asset, not a liability. So they made public appearances.

The Titans divided up into pairs or trios, depending on the audience. They talked to school kids about drugs. They talked to neighborhood watch groups about ways to prevent crime. Beast Boy was especially good with kids. He would turn into a kitten and let little girls pet him or turn into a puppy and play "fetch" with the little boys. Older girls he gave horseback rides and boys he showed dinosaurs. He started going out into the City the day after big fights. Television footage of the giant green mammoth shifting debris and helping lift and stabilize girders did a lot for the Titan's image. And even more for Changeling's. Raven was the first to notice.

"So, anybody else notice Beast Boy's autograph line?" she asked as the Titan's stood around signing autographs.

"What?" asked Cyborg, out of the corner of his mouth as he quickly scrawled his signature.

"It's almost all girls," she said flatly.

Cyborg looked over to the long line in front of Changeling. Sure enough, there were maybe fifteen or twenty teenage girls and young women lined up in front of him. He went through a series of animal changes as each girl or woman wanted their picture taken with him, but finally the crowd began to thin out.

"Enough, Beast Boy," said Raven. "Time to go."

"It's Changeling," he said, smiling.

"Why do you let that creepy witch boss you around, anyway?" asked the older of the two girls standing next to him.

Changeling's expression altered, and his face became very carefully composed.

"Her name," he said quietly, "Is Raven. She's very brave, very smart, and puts her life on the line for this City every day. Whenever she goes into the field to fight, she's doing it to protect YOU. And she's not creepy."

"Whatever," said the blond, turning and walking away.

Changeling turned to Raven and said, "Shall we?" as he gestured back to where the rest of the team was piling into the T-car. "Or shall we fly home?"

"You didn't have to do that," she said.

"Do what?"

"Tell off those fan-girls like that."

"Oh, that. They were being rude. I mean, everybody's got a right to an opinion, but you were standing right there. I didn't want them to hurt your feelings."

Raven sighed. Sometimes she missed not having feelings to hurt. She didn't want to admit it, but what the girls had said did bother her. She looked at Changeling as he walked toward the car, her head cocked to one side under her hood.

"Why did he do that?"

Her name was Victoria, "Call me Viki!" She had acres of silken blonde hair, a flawless complexion, a high voice, and boobs out to _here._ Raven hated her on sight. Beast Boy had met Viki at a moped show where she was a booth girl, and she'd been so excited to meet a "gin-ewe-wine Titan" that she'd almost bounced out of her booth.

They'd started out with the typical "dinner and a movie." She'd picked "Mutant Zombie Ninja Mummies III," much to Beast Boy's delight.

She was a vegetarian. And, as much as Raven hated to admit it, not _really_ a bimbo. The part-time modeling gig was to help pay her way through Jump City college, where she was studying forestry, with an eye to work on the preservation of wilderness. In short, she was right up Beast Boy's alley.

After dinner-and-a-movie, Viki became a fixture on the couch in Titan Tower. Raven tried, and mostly succeeded in being polite. But the first time she'd run into Viki at the breakfast table, Raven took refuge in her room and the garage, effectively abandoning the common room. After a few months, Viki's presence grew less and less, until finally she disappeared. Raven never really understood why she'd left.

"Cyborg," Raven asked, "Did I run Viki off?"

"Nah," said Cyborg. She was getting ready to do a year in Brazil, in the rainforest, and didn't want to do the long distance relationship thing. They broke it off mutually. It went as well as you can hope those things go. Why?"

"I didn't like her."

"That was pretty clear. Any reason why?"

"I dunno. I just didn't like her from the start."

Then there'd been Mitzi. She stood about five foot eight, and had a classic hourglass figure. 36-27-26. She was blonde with sky blue eyes, and a scattering of freckles across her button nose. She wasn't muscular, but wasn't flabby, either. Her look generally ran to blue jeans and sweatshirts, but sometimes she would rock a mini-skirt and heels just to keep folks off-balance. Changeling had been auditing classes at UCLA Jump when he met her in a large animal biology class. Unfortunately, it was very hard for the Titans to complete education in standard classes. Even the most flexible Professor can only bend the rule so much, and when you disappear for three weeks in the middle of the semester because you had to chase the 'Fearsome Five' into their lair in the Amazon River basin, you flunk. So most traditional learning was done on a catch-as-catch-can basis. They'd literally bumped into each other going into the classroom door, and met for coffee afterwards.

"Hey," she said, "sitting down at the table."

"Hey, yourself," he replied.

"So, you're auditing?"

"Uh huh. My day job is too unpredictable to really enroll."

"You're the one they call Changeling, aren't you?"

He smiled, "What gave it away?"

"Sorry, I guess that was a stupid question."

"Nah – I'm just a smart ass. Don't take it personally."

Mitzi smiled a little shyly. "You're a little intimidating."

He snorted. "Me? I'm just a guy. I have a day job that's kinda exciting except when we're sitting around waiting for something to happen. Then it's really boring. But I play video games. I eat junk food. And sometimes I drink a little too much beer, just like any guy you're going to meet around here."

She laughed. "Really?"

"Yes," he said. "Really."

"Well, I'm just a girl, her first year in college, trying to qualify for pre-vet."

"Cool! He said."

And they'd talked for over an hour when his communicator beeped.

"Deet-deet-dee-dee-dee-dee-deet-de-deee!"

"Changeling," he said.

"Trouble in the jewelry district. It's the Hive Five!" Robin's voice crackled over the receiver.

"Gotta go," said Changeling, and he morphed into a falcon and flew out the door of the student center.

"Just a guy," echoed Mitzi. "Right."

The First Date had actually been straight to the Tower to "meet the family," and then a home-cooked vegetarian dinner. The Titans had been on their best behavior so as not to intimidate the young woman, but they're a pretty scary crew if you don't know them. After all, you can't make eye-contact with Robin. Cyborg is bluff and friendly, but he's also almost seven feet tall and weighs almost a quarter of a ton. Pretty and friendly as she is, there is no mistaking that Starfire of the emerald eyes is Not of This Earth, and then there's Raven.

At the beginning of the evening she said precisely one word to Mitzi.

"Hello."

She then proceeded to look at her plate. The accepted tiny portions of each dish, which she nibbled on while the rest of the guests ate. As soon as the first person, Starfire as usual, rose to take her plate to the sink, Raven followed, put her dishes in the sink and announced, "I'll be in my room."

After the door to the habitat floor closed, Mitzi said, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," said Cyborg, looking away from the door. "Raven's back story is, well, kinda grim, so . . ."

"So she does not relate well to the new people," finished Starfire. "She does not mean to be rude."

"Yeah," said Robin, "She takes a while to warm up to people."

"Well," Changeling put in, "I could stand it if she made a little more effort." His voice reflected more than a little irritation.

"So," said Robin, breaking the mood, "This is normally our movie night. If the alarm doesn't go off, we'll screen a classic film. Anything you'd like to see?"

"Yeah," said Changeling, "We've got the biggest screen TV in the city. What do you say?"

"Sounds great."

"Wondrous," said Starfire. "As the Changeling's guest, you are to pick the film."

"Um-mm. By any chance, do you have 'Night of the Lepus'?" Mitzi asked.

"Uhhhh . . . " said Cyborg, "I think I saw that one in Control Freak's collection when I was cataloging confiscated evidence."

"Sweet," said Changeling. "I'll get the popcorn."

When the final credits rolled, Cyborg was the first to comment.

"No offense there, Mitzi, but that movie was so cheesy it should have been served with crackers and fine wine. No, cheap wine."

Mitzi laughed. "I should have warned you; I'm a bad movie buff. If it's poorly written, poorly acted, or poorly produced, I love it."

Changeling finally stopped giggling. He wiped tears from his eyes and said, "Aw man, that's one of the funniest things I've ever seen."

"Well," Cyborg said, "I need to hit the recharger. My power cell is running a little low. G'night ya'll."

Robin yawned, "Starfire, we should probably head to our rooms, too. Gonna be an early day tomorrow."

Starfire frowned, "But Robin, we have nothing on the agenda for . . ."

Robin gently kicked her foot under the table. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, wait. I remember now. We have the . . . thing. Yes."

The remaining Titans filed out, leaving Changeling and Mitzi alone in the common room. Changeling broke out a couple of small glasses of wine and sat on the enormous couch. The quiet pressed in around them, broken only by the hum of some of the Tower's support systems.

"Your friends are thoughtful, if not very subtle."

"Yeah. They're family."

"I'm sorry about your friend Raven. I wish I knew what I've done."

"You really haven't done anything. Raven is just, very hard to get to know. So, tell me more about yourself."

"There's not a lot to tell that you don't already know, really . . ."

But there was, and they talked into the night. When, at last, 1 AM came and went, Changeling was forced to say, "I guess I should get you home."

Mitzi yawned and said, "Guess so. The buses have stopped running. How am I going to get home?"

Changeling grinned. "C'mon up to the roof first. I want to show you something."

They walked up onto the roof and looked up at the stars.

"Wow," she said. "Nice view."

"So . . ." he said. "You haven't asked me to transform. To show you my powers."

She shrugged. "You're not a pet or a circus animal who need to do tricks. You're a person."

"You're unusual, you know that?"

She smiled, and her eyes sparkled. "Coming from you, that's saying something."

He grinned back. "You afraid of heights?"

"Not really," she said. "Why?"

"Hop on my back, and hang on. I'm going to give you a ride home."

She looked at him sideways, then shrugged. "Piggy back?"

"Oh, I can do 'piggy.' But I think this'll be more fun."

Then he jumped off the roof.

Raven heard the approaching blood-curdling scream as she sat reading in her room. She moved to the window and opened it.

"eeeeeeeee EEEEEE EEEE eeeeeeeeeeeee" the Doppler affect kicked in as the falling bodies flashed past the habitat level. She was about to summon her powers when she heard the boom of giant wings spreading out to catch the night air.

Mitzi wrapped her arms tightly around the birdlike neck of the creature below her. She felt the centripetal force press her into his shoulder blades as he pulled out of his dive. The wind whipped her hair as she slowly raised her head to look around. The first thing she saw was the full moon, hanging fat and silver above the suspension bridge that hung across the bay. Its reflection in the water was shattered into a thousand fragments by the waves below. Below and ahead of her was the city skyline, lit with a thousand golden window lights.

She looked down at the pterosaur below her knees. The wingspan was enormous. Over thirty feet. The long, long neck stretched out in front of them, while an abbreviated tail was extended behind.

"Quetzalcoatlus Northropi, or Hatzegopteryx thambema, I'm guessing," said the biologist through gritted teeth. "Paleontology is not my area of specialization."

Changeling squawked what she thought was an agreement.

They soared over the city at startling speed. Her eyes watered in protest at the wind. Changeling banked lower approaching the campus. When they neared the dorm, he banked lower still, and slowed down. He glided gently over the treetops of the carefully manicured grounds and came to a stop, his giant claws digging into the turf. Mitzi blinked a couple of times, let go of his neck, and slid to the ground. As she let go of him, she could feel his flesh start to soften as he morphed back into his human form. She blinked.

"I . . . I've dated black guys before. And foreign guys from several cultures. I didn't think that dating a green guy would be that much different. I was wrong, wasn't I?"

He shrugged. "I'm sorry if I scared you. But I thought it was really important that you clearly see who I am. You've not seen me work, and my work is most of my life. If you're going to share it, you need to know it up front. Besides, wasn't that fun?"

"Fun." She said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fun? It was five minutes of sheer terror!"

"You were never in any danger."

"You threw me off a building."

"I must have picked that up from one of my roommates."

"Quit laughing!"

"Can't. So – can I call you?"

She paused, mid-rant, and looked at him.

"I'll think about it. See you in class?"

Mitzi got over being thrown into the deep end of the meta-human pool pretty quickly, but she didn't hang out on the Titan's couch much. She charmed a key to the roof of the dorm out of her RA (Resident Advisor) and Changeling would pick her up there and they'd fly to wherever they were going that evening. They dated for several months.

Eventually, the time came, though, that she did exit the Titan common room headed toward the habitat floor with Changeling's arm over her shoulder.

"Slut," muttered Raven, slamming her book shut.

Changeling froze in the doorway. His head and shoulders rotated back to glare at her.

"Raven! What is your _deal?_"

The other Titans turned to stare, aghast.

Raven stuttered, "I . . . I. . . I'm sorry. I didn't . . ."

She phased through the floor.

"Gosh, Mitzi, I'm so sorry. I'm sure Raven didn't mean that," said Robin.

"Oh yes she did," said the blond girl. She turned to Changeling. "Take me home."

"No problem." They headed for the roof.

Although she never set foot in Titan Tower again, Mitzi and Changeling continued to date until the end of the semester, but eventually she said the dreaded words, "We Need to Talk." They met in front of the dorm where she lived. She looked at him sadly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But this just isn't working any more. I don't fit in with your friends, and they're almost your entire life. You work with them, live with them, and play with them. I'm not going to try to take you away from them. I'm sorry Garfield. This is good-bye."

She stroked his cheek once, then turned and walked into the dorm. Changeling watched her go. When the glass door of the dorm closed behind her and she walked from the lobby, he turned his back to the building, took the form of an osprey, and glided back to Titan Tower.

Pain had turned to anger by the time he got home. He came in the door to the common room to find the other four Titans hanging out. Cyborg and Robin were playing a video game involving space ships that flew around underground picking up power-ups and shooting at each other. Starfire was cooking something that was supposed to be brownies. And Raven was, of course, reading a book.

Cyborg paused the game. "You're back early. Everything ok?"

"Dumped," Changeling replied. "It was a 'walk away, don't look back, no we can't save it, we aren't gonna talk about it,' kind of dumped."

Raven slowly closed her book.

Starfire floated closer. "I am sorry, friend Beast Boy," she said. "What happened?"

"Apparently," said Changeling, with great precision in his speech, "She did not feel welcome in my home."

"Uh-oh," said Cyborg.

"Now why," continued Changeling, narrowing his eyes, "do you suppose she felt unwelcome in my home. Could it have been the crisp, all business leader?" He said, walking up to Robin. Stuffy, formal, something of a poker up his ass? No, not really. Hyper-focused isn't really unwelcoming."

"How about you?" he said, looking at Cyborg. "Bluff, 'Hail-fellow-well-met?' Nah. Everybody likes you. Big man on campus and all that."

"Or could it be the interstellar good-will ambassador," he said, looking at Starfire. "Spontaneous hugs may weird some people out, but they don't make them feel like they 'don't fit in.'"

Raven stared as Changeling walked up to her, pacing out every step, his boot heels clicking on the floor. Click. Click. Click.

"Who among us all treats people like _shit_ as a matter of course?"

Raven flinched.

"Changeling," said Robin, tentatively.

"But I . . ." began Raven.

"Yes, you do," snapped Changeling, talking over her. "You meet someone, you judge them, you jamb them into a pigeon-hole, and then you do nothing but snark."

She glared up at him. "It's not my fault you got involved with a promiscuous . . ."

"Oh, you did _not_ go there," he raised his voice again.

"Dude," said Cyborg, "I think . . ."

Changeling ground on, hoarse, low, and harsh. He loomed over Raven, face twisted in anger, voice tight with hurt.

"Mitzi wasn't promiscuous. We _cared_ about each other. We were exclusive. And yeah, we were sexually active, but that didn't make her a slut. But you know what? Even if she was, better that than a bipolar, emotionally constipated, frigid, mean, wicked little witch!"

The common room went silent, the "w-word" clattering on the steel floor of the Tower, rolling about in the sudden stillness. Nobody _ever_ called Raven "witch" in Changeling's presence. He wouldn't permit it. Raven bit her lip and sat there, eyes closed for a moment. Then she phased through the floor.

"Changeling," said Robin, "That was over a line."

"No," he replied. "It wasn't."

Cyborg spoke, "Dude, that's like, like calling me a nigger, or Starfire a 'troq.' It's just a word you don't use. It's too loaded. You need to apologize."

"Not this time."

"But friend Changeling," began Starfire.

"Not. This Time," he said again, more firmly. "I'm going out. I'm going to take an unscheduled patrol of the Tenderloin. And God help any muggers or pimps find."

He left the room, and no one seemed inclined to try and stop him. The other Titans exchanged looks.

The next day, things weren't any better. Neither Changeling nor Raven showed up for breakfast. Or lunch. That afternoon, the Titan alert went off, triggered by a bank robbery featuring Johnny Rancid, who'd brought an entire biker gang with him to the party. Both Raven and Changeling appeared and fought like they were possessed by the very Devil himself. They never made eye contact with each other, spoke only when absolutely necessary to coordinate during the fight, and vanished as soon as the dust settled. It was the same for the next three days. Nobody saw Raven or the Changeling unless there was a full-on alert, and they only stayed long enough to nail down the problem.

"This can't go on," Robin said. "We're getting by, but we're not going to be able to function as a team much longer with them separated like this. I'll take Raven. You guys take Changeling. Find him and make him talk to you. We've got to find a solution, or it could cost us the team."

"No taking sides, though," said Cyborg.

"No," said Starfire. "Both have done the other the wrongness."

"Ok. Titans, GO!"

The team scattered to search for the missing members of their team. Robin didn't have to hunt very far. He knocked on the door to Raven's room.

"Hello?" he said, opening the door.

It was dark inside. Darker than usual; not gloomy or scary, but actually inky black. He turned on the light. Raven's low-wattage overhead burst into life, shedding a dim light across the room. Raven was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. Her hood was down and her elbows were resting on her knees, her chin on her fists.

"Raven?"

"Go. Away."

"I can't. We've got a pretty big problem, and we need to fix it."

"I don't think it can be fixed Robin. I've screwed up big time."

Robin paused. Raven was not known for her flexibility, and he'd thought persuading Raven that she'd made a mistake would be the hard part.

"He wasn't completely wrong you know. You were very rude to her. From the moment you met her."

She looked up from where she was staring into the shadows at the far end of the wall.

"You think I don't know that? That I wasn't aware of every . . . wicked thing I said when I said it? I regretted them all before they came out of my mouth. But I couldn't stop myself. It was almost like with my powers – it just . . . came out."

"And now?"

"Now I feel awful. He hates me and it's entirely justified."

"You should apologize."

"I tried. She accepted my apology, but said she's done."

"Wait, what?"

"The night he came home. I went to campus and found her. She was very gracious, but said that she just wasn't ever going to fit in at the Tower, and asked me to please not talk to her again."

"I meant apologize to Changeling."

"Oh. Well, he'd have to be willing to listen to me. I don't think he will."

Changeling wasn't on the rocks at the foot of the tower. He wasn't in his room or on the roof. Cyborg said, "I'll check Terra's plinth. You check her old place in the badlands."

He'd been at the plinth, just sitting there, staring into the darkness.

"Hey dude," said Cyborg.

"Hey."

"You okay?"

"Meh."

"Thought so. You know, you were pretty hard on Raven back there."

Changeling grated, "She had it coming. I had something good going, and she pissed on it for no reason."

"I know."

Changeling paused. "You're not gonna argue with me?"

"Nope. You had something good going and it might have led to something even better. And she pissed all over it for no reason I can figure. But you were still pretty hard on her."

Changeling cocked his head. "How do you figure?"

Cyborg paused and thought, choosing carefully. "Of the five of us, I had the most normal upbringing. I was in my junior year of high school when I had my accident. I was almost twenty when my Dad died. Do you remember your birth parents?"

"Sure. I was just a kid when they died, but I'll always remember them."

"Right. I know you didn't hook up with the Doom Patrol for a couple of years after that, but Steve and Rita took you in pretty solid, right?"

"They adopted me. I'm their son."

"So, just say your birth parents were still alive. Could you go home to them?"

"I . . . I'm not sure what you're saying."

"Suppose, for a second, that your parents weren't dead. Would they still love you? Could you go home?"

"Well, sure. I mean, we were a normal family until my accident. They took care of me like any other kid. They just did in north Africa."

Cyborg weighed his words carefully. "Okay then. Put that aside for a minute. We'll come back to it. Now, the Doom Patrol. If, say, the Titans all died or we broke up, could you go back to the Doom Patrol? Would Steve and Rita take you back in?"

Changeling thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure, yeah. I mean, Steve was pretty pissed when I left, but . . . we're family."

"Right. So now, if I left for the Titans East tomorrow, but then wanted to come back, would you take me back?"

"Uh – sure? Listen, what's the point of all this?"

Starfire joined them. "Friend Changeling. Please think about friend Raven. You have had _three_ families. Raven only has had the one."

"Huh?"

"Raven's mother placed her with the monks of Azarath, who feared her, the day she was born. Her father was the Trigon. When they threw her out of Azarath, she lived on the streets until we met the day I came to your world," said Starfire.

Changeling stared, eyes wide.

Cyborg continued. "Raven has no place to go back to; no one to turn to if the Titans throw her out. Right now she's probably trying to figure out what to do if we throw her into the street."

"Dude, that's so not gonna happen."

Cyborg said, "She doesn't know that."

"How can she not?" Changeling said.

Starfire answered. "Because it's what her Mother did, and it's what Azarath did. Why would we be any different? As far as Raven knows, that's what people who care about you do. The keep you around for a little while, and then throw you away if it is convenient."

Changeling sat there on Terra's plinth, thinking. He thought back to when he was just a young boy, wearing a dog's shock collar and working as a thief, kept in a cage and fed scraps. It wasn't the crappy food, the indignity of the cage or the slavery of the collar. He'd always known he'd get out of those. What had made it bad was the knowledge, sure and certain, that he was alone in all the world. Green, with claws and fangs, nobody would want him, now that his parents were gone. And he had been wrong. First the Doom Patrol. Then Steve and Rita had adopted him. Then the Titans had taken him in. And he had no doubt, that, if everything should fall apart, he'd find a place somewhere. Raven couldn't say the same.

"I can't just let this go. She _really_ screwed me over. On purpose."

"Nobody's asking you to let it go. Just to – listen to her. You said you were her friend. Friends owe that to each other. Or were you just blowing smoke up her skirt?" said Cyborg.

He sat there for a moment, staring. He stood.

"I don't smoke."

"Let's go then."

The three of them silently left the scene of Terra's sacrifice and returned to Titan Tower. Home. They found Raven and Robin sitting quietly on the rocks at the foot of the Tower. Robin and Cyborg made eye contact. Robin stood and headed silently for the door.

"Please friends," said Starfire, "may we - eeeeeeekkkkkk!"

Without breaking stride, Cyborg grabbed her around the waist and continued toward the door.

When the door was closed and the lights of the Tower limited to the windows high above, Changeling spoke.

"Apparently, our friends would like us to talk," said Changeling.

"Apparently so," Raven answered, not looking at him. "I – I think I should go first."

"OK."

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't _fix _anything, but it's all I've got. I'm sorry I messed up your – your romance."

There was a long pause. "So that's it? 'Sorry,' but no explanation? No reason why?"

She looked away. Her stomach clenched and her hands began to shake.

"That's the thing," she continued. "I don't _know_ why. Since you left, Starfire's been trying to teach me to feel. We've been crawling around in my mental attic and basement, prying open metaphorical crates. Sort of tearing things open and seeing what happens. It's mostly been good, but . . ."

"But what?" he said, quietly.

"But," she said, uncertainly, "I used to _think_. Now I just, just . . . _do_ stuff. It doesn't make any _sense._ I'm not trying to make excuses, but I think there might be . . . something wrong with me."

She remained looking out over the water, shaking hands concealed with her cloak. "I'm not going to beg. But I . . . really, really need you to not hate me."

She stood there, her back turned for a minute. Then two. The silence stretched out as the sound of the water lapping against the shore of Titan Island got louder. A gloved hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped, startled.

"Raven," he said, from behind her. "I don't hate you. I'm really, really pissed off right now. But I still care about you, and I'll always be your friend. Nothing's going to change that. But Jesus, you sure know how to load test it. Give me some physical distance and some time and I'll get over it. Eventually."

There was another very long pause.

"Ok," said Raven.

He turned to leave, and paused. "I'm not sorry I yelled at you. You had most of that coming. But I shouldn't have called you a wicked witch. It's not true, and nobody who knows you believes it."

"Beast Boy?"

"Changeling. What?"

"Will you be at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

He walked away, leaving Raven standing on the shore, looking out over the water.


	14. Blood, Decisions, and Nevermore

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

Aqua Rules:I'm glad you like it. Growth and change, while staying in character is proving to be a challenge.

LadyFelton1994: I will serve no lemon before its time. But the time will come for lemonade.

JOHNXgambit: This universe, or someone.

Katwizzle:Thanks for reading. This chapter will be a little less sad.

Paragon the Half-Dragon: Patience. These kids are young, and they're broken. I've gotta fix some personalities before I start blending them. I think it was Orson Wells who said, "I will serve no lemon before it's time."

jazzybizzle: Thinks will get darker before they get lighter.

LadiBeri: Thanks for reading. I'm glad you like it. Some of the best is yet to come.

Anna1119: Why would Changeling be dating other women? Think about the women and what they have in common. As to where we're going. I have a few ideas. I'll be writing up some tropes other people have already used, and I will also be exploring what I hope will be quite surprising.

egg1 : Thanks. I try to update as regularly as possible. I'm very flattered that you think my text is realistic. Oh - Raven is going to get her opportunity to play the field. But I really want Beast Boy to steal her first kiss, and I'm having trouble letting her date first.

I apologize in advance for Sergeant O'Connor. He's a living, breathing stereotype. It's just one that I've always loved. I hope you enjoy our first visit to Nevermore. It seems like it's an obligatory trope on , and I'm pretty happy with the way I handled it. Let me know.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair, as were most meals after that for a while. But the tension that had wracked the tower for the last three days was gone.

Then came Fritzi. She was easily a foot taller than Raven, and had acres of this, wavy blonde hair. She had a pale, Nordic complexion, with cornflower blue eyes. With a large bust and narrow waist, she had just qualified for the cheerleading squad at the University. Changeling met her after sports events for drinks, took her to concerts, and to parties on campus and in town. They took occasional short road trips together and in general hung out. It was only after a couple of months that he brought her to the Tower, when she asked why he hadn't introduced her to the rest of the Titans.

"I'm beginning to feel like your 'dirty little secret,'" she said. "What's the matter, are you ashamed of me?"

"No," he said. "Them.'

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey, super heros can be pretty odd birds. Their hearts are in the right place, but socially, well . . ."

She grinned. "Unlike you, who are totally socially "-ept."

He laughed. "Exactly. Most super heroes don't relate to people as well as I."

"Me," she said.

"What?"

"You mean 'don't relate to people as well as _me.' _You need to use the objectival pronoun, not the subjectival one."

He blinked at her.

"English major," she said. "Go on."

"Well, take Robin. Somewhere, he got formal training on manners and stuff. He's a great host, but only when one of use remembers to turn it on. If you leave him to himself, he only takes his nose out of the police blotter and computer to hit the gym for training. He has a one-track mind, and that track leads to catching criminals. He has a particular hate-boner on for murderers."

"So," she said, "Unless he's on formal manners, you only see the back or side of his head, 'cause he's researching."

"Yeah. Then there's Starfire. Her personality is literally "out-of-this-world."

"Is she _really_ from another planet?"

"Yep. Tameran has this really harsh warrior culture. It's so severe there that modern Tameranian has no word for 'nice.' The closest the language comes is _rutha_, their word for 'weak.'"

"So she's a real hardass, eh?"

"Just the opposite. Starfire's a real softie. But as near as I can tell, she never got to express it with anyone but her nanny when she was growing up. Any expression of caring was regarded as an admission of weakness. So when she came here, it all sort of bubbled over. Or acksploded."

"A hugger, I take it?"

"A hugger who doesn't know her own strength. Oh, and if she offers you any Tameranian food, stay away from the zorkaberries. They don't agree with humans. Gives us the gallopin' gosharooties."

"Got it. No zorkaberries. Anything else? What about the robot?"

"Woah! Careful. Cyborg's not a robot. He's a man. He just had to have a bunch of parts replaced after an accident. But his heart, his mind, and his personality are all human."

"Thanks. I'll remember that."

"On the other hand, he's not above jokes that take you literally if you ask him to 'give you a hand.' Sometimes he'll actually, you know, 'GIVE you a hand.'"

She blinked. Then she frowned at her right hand, ticking off names.

"There are supposed to be five Titans. Isn't there a witch or something?"

Changeling winced. "Ah. About her. Right. Well, for starters, don't call her a witch. It hurts her feelings. She's really a good person, and people are afraid of her."

"Why?"

"Well, she looks – different."

She arched an eyebrow.

"No – really. Like me, her skin is a funny color. _I _don't think there's anything wrong with her, but her skin is – grey and her hair is purple."

"Lots of kids dye their hair purple."

"She was born that way."

"Oh, so no 'color found in nature' jokes."

"Absolutely. I wouldn't mention hairdressers, either."

"Right. That's four, plus you. I still want to meet them."

"Okay," he heaved a great sigh. "Dinner on movie night, then."

"You make it sound like I'm heading into the _House of Dracula. _It's your home. It'll be fine."

And it was. When the doors to the common room opened, the other four Titans were waiting on the couch to greet their guest.

"Fritzi, this is Robin."

"Hi. I'm not as uptight as Changeling says I am."

"Sez you. Starfire . . ."

"Greetings new friend," said the alien, applying one of her signature breath-stopping hugs.

"Cyborg,"

"Yo."

"And Raven."

Raven stepped forward and lowered her hood. She took Fritzi by the hand and looked directly into her eyes, saying, "Welcome to Titan Tower. I hope that you always feel comfortable here."

There was a long pause. Then Raven blinked, let go of Fritzi's hand, and snatched a tray from the coffee table.

"Cookies! We have cookies," she said, thrusting the tray up under Fritzi's nose.

"Um, thanks?" she said, taking a snicker doodle from the pile.

"And sodas! Do you like cola? Root beer? Uncola? High caffeine? Low Caffeine? It's movie night, so we usually order pizza, but if you like we have other food we can fix," Raven went on.

"Pizza is fine."

"Great. Do you want vegetarian or meat lovers or supreme? We usually order a meat lovers for Cyborg, a vegetarian for Beast Boy – I mean – I mean – Changeling and the rest of us order. But you can have anyone that you want."

"Thanks," she looked sideways at Changeling.

"Oh, Azar," thought Raven. "I think I'm trying to hard. I should shut up. But the book said to never sit silently."

Raven stood there, beads of sweat accumulating. "I can't blow this. I won't blow this. I can't leave the room. She'll feel snubbed. I can't just stand here, I'm creeping her out. I'm creeping ME out. Azar, Metrion, and Trigon, _somebody_ else say _something._"

"C'mon everybody, take a load off," said Cyborg.

Raven breathed a sigh of relief as the focus moved off of her. The six young people moved to the couch.

"So," asked Robin, "Changeling says you're a cheerleader. You know, I hear that that's more athletic than people give it credit for."

"True," said Fritzi. "Did you know that, on the high school level, there are more deaths than in football, soccer, lacrosse, or any other extra-curricular activity?"

Cyborg's eye widened.

Conversation flowed smoothly after that. Raven sat quietly, carefully watching to make sure that everybody else said at least one thing before she spoke. Then she would ask a single question or make a single comment, and wait again. Her head began to pound, and she longed for the quiet darkness of her room. A reprieve came when the pizza arrived, and she was able to hide behind a mouth full of cheese and pepperoni. Fritzi, as the guest, was asked to select the movie. She went with "Casablanca," to Raven's relief. She'd been expecting "Bring it On." People aren't expected to talk during movies, and Raven was able to sit for almost two hours in the dark and deal with her headache. When the movie was over, she decided that it would be polite to leave Beast Boy alone with his date.

She shook Fritzi's hand again, saying "It was nice to meet you. I hope you can come to see us again soon," and left the room.

"That went about as well as I could hope," she thought, as she headed toward her room. She entered the soothing cool dimness and glanced over at her desk. On it was a copy of the first edition of _Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior._ Raven hadn't needed to know what basic good manners were, but she'd had no training at all on how to be a good hostess. So she did what she'd always done – opened a book.

"Always greet a guest with an offer of refreshment."

"While a planned menu is very much in order, a good hostess must be flexible."

"Never just sit there in silence, nor dominate the conversation. A good hostess should speak just enough to stimulate the conversation."

As the weeks went by, Raven was able to relax more during Fritzi's rare visits; Changeling still preferred not to bring her to the tower very often. When the time came that Fritzi and Changeling departed the common room headed for the habitat floor, Raven kept her eyes on her book, but said, "Good night."

It was late afternoon on a fairly busy day. The incidence of meta-human activity was very low, and common criminals seemed somehow encouraged to cavort.

Changeling's communicator chirped. He grabbed it from his belt, glanced at the screen. Fritzi's name was blinking. He flipped it open.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

Her voice shook as it rattled from the tiny speaker.

"Changeling, the Central Bank on Bay Avenue is being robbed. I'm stuck inside. There are five of them. They have guns –"

The transmission was abruptly cut off.

Changeling blinked once and looked up at the others.

"Titans, GO!" said Robin.

The team left from the roof, flying fast and hard. Starfire took point position with Raven covering her wing. Cyborg and Robin eschewed their wheels this time in favor of speed, riding two of Raven's disks of dark energy. Each man kneeled to keep his center of gravity low and to reduce the buffeting from the wind of their passage. Changeling flew in the anchor position in the form of a streaking falcon. The team touched down in front of the bank moments after the police got themselves sorted out and a perimeter set up.

Sergeant O'Connor walked up to Robin.

"Th' whole team? Sure'n but 'tis a bank robbery, Robin. Are you goin' tae leave us nothin' tae do?"

"Sorry, Sergeant. We've got a friend in there."

"Well, lad, the hostage negotiation team will be here in fifteen minutes. If we so much as approach the bank, the robbers have threatened to start killing hostages."

"The longer we wait, the more chance there is that one of the thieves will snap, or one of the hostages will do something stupid," Robin replied.

"They've got th' banks cameras monitoring all the doors and windows, plus th' roof. I've seen you lot handle yourselves in a fight, but how are you going tae git close enough?"

Robin smiled. It was a small, disturbing smile.

"Raven?" he said with a smirk.

Raven smirked back, and crossed her arms over her chest. The red jasper stones on the back of her hands flashing in the sun. She threw her head back and opened her eyes, which shone with onyx fire. Black power swirled up from the ground, surrounding the Titans and forming an opaque dome over them, which sank into the ground without a trace, taking the heroes with it.

For once, Changeling barely noticed the cold of the Void and the Darkness That Stretches to Forever that Raven's gate took them through. His mind was completely consumed with worry for the woman inside.

They appeared on the floor of the bank in another swirl of power. For a change, there was no need for "Titan's, GO!" The team immediately scattered each selecting a would-be thief, and charging.

It should have been a simple, routine call. A bank robbery at Jump City National Bank: a gang of normal, everyday bank robbers, caught by surprise by all five Titans. It should have gone smoothly, ending with the bad guys in jail and the Titans at the Pizzeria. Then it had all gone pear-shaped. You see, Fritzi hadn't said anything about a bomb.

Unnoticed by Mitzi, the robbers had planted it next to a pillar supporting the ceiling over the hostages. It exploded during the Titan's initial charge, scattering the team. The huge marble column cracked through and began to fall toward the bank staff and customers, who were lying on the floor trying desperately to stay out of the way of the flying bullets.

Raven had seen it in plenty of time. She'd whipped around and caught the falling stone of both the ceiling and the massive column on a web of pure force. Robin and Cyborg quickly began to evacuate the civilians while Starfire leapt to help Raven support the stone pillar. Sweat beaded on Raven's face as she strained to keep the people safe. Fritiz took advantage of all the confusion to leave the other hostages and take cover behind a desk. She wanted to see her boyfriend work.

It was then that one of the thugs saw Raven's apparently unguarded back and raised his pistol.

It's amazing how time seems to slow down when you're in a life and death situation.

The world seemed to slow down for Changeling as he thought fast. "If I warn Raven, she'll turn, rather than move, and still get shot, plus she might drop the masonry. There's no time to morph into a bigger animal."

The robber moved. Changeling's eyes flickered back and forth. He was too far from Raven to knock her aside, and though closer, also too far from the bank robber to tackle him. But it was only two steps to the path of the bullet.

"Cheap at twice the price," he thought, and without hesitation he stepped forward, putting his body between Raven and gunman. Fritzi's eyes widened in shock as Changeling turned to present the broadest part of his chest to the path of the bullets. And that was when she saw it. It was on his face as clear as day, and she was _not _imagining it. The gun cracked twice. Changeling felt the two bullets impact his body. He dropped to one knee. The first bullet punctured a lung, but it was the second one that was going to be the problem. It nicked one of the blood vessels that fed his heart, the pulmonary artery. He didn't know the specifics, but he could feel that something very wrong.

"Lub-dub." Changeling's heart beat, spilling blood into his thoracic cavity and down his chest in a frightening scarlet waterfall.

Then the robber made his final mistake. He moved again. He tried to move clear of Changeling and get another shot at Raven's back. The beasts in Changeling's bones saw the movement. And _this_ time, with Raven safe behind him, there would be time to morph.

"Lub-dub." He could feel the heat of the blood spilling inside his body.

He was already getting weak. He'd only have one shot at this. Raven was still in danger. It would have to be something big, to soak up the remaining bullets in the thug's gun. It would have to be fast; he had a lot of ground to cover, and had only moments. The Beast was too hard to control. The T-Rex and the stegosaur were too tall for the space. "Ah, he thought, "Of course."

"Lub-dub."

In the green dark forests of the Canadian northwest, the railroad companies have to put special sirens on their locomotives to keep these animals from charging them during mating season. In the rut, the males mistake the vibrations and sounds of speeding locomotives for amorous rivals, and attack them to drive them out of their territory. So large and so powerful are they that they can derail a speeding locomotive. Of course, to do so costs them their lives.

Changeling came up of off his knee, lifting up a foot as he began his attack.

"Lub-dub." The hoof that came down was cloven, and the floor shook under its weight. The marble floor cracked and crumbled. Changeling leaned forward as his spine stretched and his muscles rippled and burst into growth. His fore hooves hit the ground, shattering more of the marble floor as he sprang from a standing start into a full-on charge.

"Lub-dub." The room trembled under the mass of two thousand pounds of enraged Bull Moose. Standing eight feet tall at the shoulder and with a razor-sharp antler rack almost seven feet across, Changeling bellowed a challenge that rattled the windows as he made his final charge across the bank.

The gunman's eyes widened. The space where only a moment ago a wounded young man had knelt was now filled with nearly a ton of water-lily chomping, bellowing, snorting _nightmare_. He emptied his pistol into the head of the moose, but it had no effect, each bullet deflected by the thick skull of the creature, leaving bloody but mostly harmless tracks in its scalp. He held out his hands to try to block the moose from trampling him, but he might as well have tried to stop the tide from rising with a toothpick. The moose prepared to toss his head and gore the tiny creature that had dared to threaten his mate.

"Lub-dub." Changeling was having trouble seeing now. His vision narrowed to a tunnel. Inside the moose's brain, Changeling's mind thought, "Mate? Boy, moose sure are stupid – more to the point – heroes don't kill."

Changeling head-butted the gunman into a pile of furniture at about thirty miles an hour. The man would almost certainly survive.

"Lub-dub." The pull of the earth was strong now. Changeling kneeled and began shrinking back to his human form. The gunman was either unconscious, or wised-up. Either way, he no longer moved. Raven was safe. The rest of the Titans would have to handle the remaining robbers. "It's time for a moose-nap," thought Changeling. From a distance, he thought he heard a woman scream. He tried to turn his head toward the sound, but it was just too heavy.

"Lub-." Darkness.

At the sound of gunfire, Raven turned her head just in time to see Beast Boy absorb the second of the two bullets and drop to one knee. She moved to go to him, but then turned back to force the ceiling back up and away from the hostages.

"Cyborg," she shouted, her arms quivering with the strain.

The man-machine looked for an instant, and then sprinted toward the fallen teen, crying "On it!" Starfire looked at the remaining hostages and the four remaining bank robbers, undecided.

"I've got this," declared Robin, as he palmed four of his high-explosive grenades. "GO!" The gloves, it seemed, were coming off.

Starfire swept under Raven's shield and, with brutal efficiency, began to pick up the remaining hostages and _throw_ them clear of the building. There would be some bloody noses and broken bones, but no one would die. As soon as the last one was clear, Raven dropped the heavy stonework and raced to Changeling's side. Cyborg had gotten there first. He was ashen-faced. Raven stopped cold. There was so much blood.

"He's going to be ok, right?" she said, flatly.

"Rae, it's bad," Cyborg said, "Real bad. I can stop the bleeding on the outside, but he's bleeding out internally. He needs surgery and I'm not really even a doctor, let alone a surgeon."

"So much blood . . ." she said.

"Raven, science is going to strike out. Magic's all we've got left. You're the only one who can heal him in time."

"I _can't!"_ Raven shouted," looking up at him. "So much blood . . . can't focus . . . DO SOMETHING!"

Nevermore: Raven's mindscape. A metaphor for her consciousness, her mind, her personality. And right now, it was in utter chaos.

The avatars of Raven's personality had gathered at the center of her mind, under the light of the silver stars, and rioted.

"He's going to die," said Timid, as she rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her knees, huddling under her grey cloak. "He's going to die, and we never told him. It's my fault. We should have told him. I was just afraid . . ."

Happy stood still, a tiny smile on her face, staring out into the black and silver starscape, as a single tear streaked down one cheek. "At least we can be happy he cared about us. He never would have done that, otherwise . . . "

"Do NOT talk about him in the past tense," said Brave, "This isn't over."

Rage howled, "How DARE he put us in this debt!"

Wisdom just stared and Knowledge, her twin, and blinked.

"We can handle this," said Brave, "We can. We just have to, umm. . . have to . . ."

The bank floor: Fritzi watched as Raven knelt and panted heavily. Sweat beaded on Raven's forehead as she tried to push down panic. It was a new experience for her. Raven didn't normally _do _panic. "So much blood. I can't . . . I can't."

"Rae," said Cyborg, "The blood flow is slowing. He's bleeding out. There's no time for an ambulance. I don't have any blood here to give him."

Nevermore: Rude elbowed her way through the crowd of panicking avatars to where Intellect and Wisdom stood, gaping at the chaos.

"Hey! You're supposed to be the ice queens of rationality. Get your thumbs out of your asses and DO SOMETHING. We can't heal him when we're like this."

Wisdom made eye contact with Intellect, and they both inhaled.

"Quiet!" they shouted, and they made the welkin ring.

The other avatars froze, and turned to stare.

"Who made you the boss?" asked Brave.

Wisdom pointed across the crowd. "She did."

On the other side of the crowd stood a small girl, shorter than the other avatars. She wore a soft, rose-colored cloak. Her eye glittered with unshed tears and indescribable loss.

"Wow," said Intellect's twin, Curiosity. I heard she was around, but I've never seen her before."

"Timid's been hiding her," said Intellect.

"I'm sorry," said Timid. "I thought there'd be time . . ."

"We don't have time for this," interrupted Intellect.

Rage spoke, "If he does not live, we cannot make him pay for what he has done to us."

And to the astonishment of all the other avatars, Rage locked eyes with the newcomer, and then sat down on the ground, in the lotus position, and closed her eyes.

"_You_ know how to meditate?" asked Intellect.

"Of course," Rage growled, looking up at her for a moment. "I'm Raven."

One by one each avatar sat down in the circle, when the new girl, was the last to sit, she said simply, "Please. We must return to the girl we were, if the woman we wish to be is to survive this. Azarath."

"Metrion," growled Rage.

"Zinthos," intoned Brave.

As the avatars chanted Raven's mantra, their voices began to align, many becoming one. Their breathing began to match. Soon Raven's mindscape was silent, except for the quiet chanting, as all her facets, in one voice, focused on a single task.

The bank floor: Next to Changeling, Cyborg looked suddenly at Raven, concerned. Her panic had drained away, along with what little color there was in her face. Then his outer housing misted up as the temperature around her cooled off. Her eyes snapped open.

"I've healed bleeders before, but never with so much blood lost. I'll do my best."

She licked her lips nervously and reached out her hands, placing them over Changeling's heart, and began to concentrate. The dark energy of her soul self trickled out of her fingertips and sank into Changeling's body, following the intricate path of his blood vessels. She passed over the fluid filled lung. She would fix that if she could later. Right now – there. The air grew colder.

"Oh Azar," she said, "the damage is practically _in _his heart."

"Rae," said Cyborg, concerned, "I know you want to help, but don't do anything stupid"

She ignored him, knitting together the nicked blood vessel. Changeling's heart slowed still more. Quickly, she knitted up the other major leakages. She leapt into the marrow of his bones, forcing them to produce more red blood cells. Fluid she drew from his lymph nodes, his stomach, and even his bladder. He was going to be unbelievably thirsty when this was over.

His heart stopped.

Raven's own heart skipped a beat. Her power was at an end. The heavy masonry, the early part of the fight. The flight to the bank. All had taken their toll. And then the incredibly complex healing had taxed her to the limit. She had nothing left to give.

"No," she whispered.

Nevermore. All of the avatar's eyes flew open in shock. Intellect opened her mouth to speak, but Rage interrupted.

She snarled. "No, Beast Boy, you will _not_ leave us now. We. Are. Not. Done. With. You. Yet."

The Bank Floor: Fritzi saw it again. It was written all over Raven's face. Frost appeared on Cyborg's metal parts. He could see his breath. Raven's eyes flew open, glowing with an eldritch black fire. She arched her back as power flowed from her eyes and mouth into Changeling's chest.

"Lub-dub."

"I've got a heartbeat," Cyborg said. It's thready. It's weak. But it's steady. Raven, you can stop – I think he's gonna make it. We just have to get him to the infirmary-"

Raven collapsed.

Cyborg scrambled, suddenly having two patients on his hands.

"What happened?" asked Starfire.

"She used her own life energy to get the grass-stain's heart to start beating again. If it had gone on any longer, she would have died."

"It seems we are surrounded by people who would risk their lives for each other."

"This was more than that, Star. We risk our lives daily for the people of the city. Raven and BB both just chose to die for each other."

Robin walked up, "And they chose to do it without thinking. They just acted."

"I'm feelin' a little . . . humble here," said Cyborg. "C'mon. Let's get them to the infirmary. BB needs more fluids, and Raven could use some IV nutrition, too."

Cyborg looked around the bank. The four remaining criminals, badly bruised, were tied up and hanging head down from four different light fixtures. The one that had shot BB had been duct taped to a chair. He looked over at Robin.

"Mop up's done," said Robin.

Fritzi spoke up from behind the desk, "I think, I think, - Imma be sick."

Starfire got Fritzi to an ambulance where she was treated for shock while Robin and Cyborg

Raven woke first.

"Beast Boy?"

Starfire answered, "Changeling has not yet awakened friend Raven. Friend Cyborg assures me daily that he continues to heal, and will awaken soon."

"Daily?" said Raven, struggling to sit up, "How long have I been out?"

"You have been in the trance of healing for three days."

"Wow," said Raven, "I guess that took a lot more out of me than I expected."

"Lie still for now. I must inform the others that you have awakened."

The rest of the team gathered at Raven's bedside to congratulate her on her recovery, and on her near-miraculous healing of Changeling. After much back slapping and glad-handing, the rest of the Titans departed, leaving Raven and Robin alone.

He quieted, his face becoming still.

"Why did you do it?"

"What? I didn't want him to die."

"Raven, Cyborg says Changeling was _dead._ You didn't just heal him. You went into the dark after him and dragged him back into the light by his hair. I don't know much about magic, but I know that the Phantom Stranger, Zatanna, Dr. Fate, and even Sebastian Faust don't do that because it's just too dangerous. We almost lost both of you."

She looked away. "I don't know about that. At the time, it seemed the right thing to do."

"I'm not gonna stand here and tell you that you should have let him die. But . . . please be more careful. I'm glad we didn't lose him. But we can't stand to lose you, either."

"I'll . . . keep that in mind."

Robin turned to leave.

"Robin," he stopped. "Don't tell him."

"I think he deserves to know. But that's your call. We haven't told Starfire. I'll inform Cyborg that you want it private."

It was later in the evening when Fritzi slipped up to Raven's bed in the infirmary, where Cyborg had insisted she remain, wired up to monitors at least over night, just for observation.

"Hi," she said.

"Um, hello," said Raven. "What brings you here tonight?"

"I need to ask you for a very personal favor."

Raven looked at the bed she was confined to. "I guess. If I can."

"I need you to promise to take care of Changeling for me. I'm leaving."

Raven's eye widened and a very quiet, controlled panic began to gather at the back of her throat.

"Why? What it something I said? Something I did?"

"And I wanted to apologize."

That brought Raven up short.

"Honestly," the taller woman continued. "I'd never have started if I'd know I was poaching."

"Wait, what?"

Fritzi stopped and looked at Raven closely. She didn't have Changeling's years of experience in Raven-watching, but she's been around for a few months, and had learned about the edges of Raven's eyes, and the corners of her mouth, where her feelings leaked out.

"Ohmigawd," she squeaked. "You don't know. You have no idea, do you?"

Raven began to lose patience. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything. There's another reason that will make more sense. I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"He almost died in that bank. If it hadn't been for you, he would have. I'm glad you saved him, but I can't do this. Those were just common, ordinary bank robbers. You guys fight _real_ bad guys all the time. Every time that stupid communicator he insists on carrying everywhere goes "Doo-deet-dee-dee-dee-dee-deet-de-deee," he could _die._

"Don't you ever watch the news? It's kinda what you signed on for."

Fritzi turned her back, hugged herself, and lowered her head a little.

"Trust me, seeing it on TV and seeing it in person is very, very different. I was so scared _for him_ that my stomach almost exploded. My hands were shaking, my eyes were watering, and I could taste bile the whole time."

"Wow," said Raven, flatly.

"The worst of it. . . the worst of it was the past couple of days, when your three friends were fighting crime without you two. I was _glad_ he was hurt, and unable to answer the call. Think about that: I was _glad he was hurt._ So far, I've learned that I'm selfish and gutless. A-heh," she laughed weakly. "Much more self-discovery and I'll be ready to open a vein."

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit," said Raven. "You will get used to . . ."

"I don't _want_ to get used to it!" the blond woman barked.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I don't want to live like this. I'm glad I learned now. I'm going to find a nice accountant. Or a computer technician. Or maybe a brewer. No more super-heroes. No cops. No firefighters. And no soldiers. So will you?"

"What? Look out for Beast Boy? Sure. I would have done that anyway. He's my friend."

"Friend," Fritzi repeated, with a tiny smirk on her face. "I almost regret leaving. I wish I could stay and watch."

"Watch what?"

"Never mind," Her smile vanished and a cloud seemed to move over her face.

"Well, I've got to go face the music."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to go dump your friend. There's no point in putting it off. That will just make it worse. And I can't do it in a text. I had all the fun face to face. That means I owe him the opportunity to chew me out and tell me what a selfish, gutless bitch I'm being."

She sighed, straightened her shoulders, and walked out the door, turning toward Changeling's room.


	15. Don't Think of Her That Way

Author's Notes:

JazzyBizzle – Oh, the making up has just begun.

Nicoletteschmidt – I LOVE it when I can make my reader's cry. And I know exactly what you mean. I read some of those stories and just stop. People just don't behave that way. Even teenagers.

JOHNXgambit – I don't know about that. Raven doesn't follow just anyone into the dark to drag them back. Timid? 'Splain? 'Splain what? What mysterious aspect in a new color? Never heard of it. Surely you are mistaken. Raven's conscious mind would certainly know of such at a thing.

Egg1 – Yeah. I left out some thought-monologue. Essentially "Don'tScrewUpDon'tScrewupDontScrewup," but it messed up the pacing of the scene, so I cut it. If Changeling loses another relationship, it won't be on Raven's watch.

Nique – Glad you liked it.

InfiniteReader – I always appreciate a "wow."

Sergeant Daniel – I sure hope it keeps getting better the longer it goes, 'cause we've got a long way to go together.

Katwizzle – Always nice to hear from you. Thanks again.

Yumiulrichlovers – Really. I would have thought chapter 14 was more tear-worthy.

I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who's stuck with me so far. I know that this story is very long, and all of the winding around has some people yelling "GET TO THE POINT." I'm sure I've lost a few readers along the way. But we'll persevere, we weary, worthy few.

I thought you might like a peek ahead. I've got about another 20,000 words already written. Aqualad has made an appearance. Changeling, at long last, will have his Road to Damascus moment, but it will involve Raven, rather than God. Raven ran into a style consultant with a stronger will than hers. Makeup is involved. Oddly, I'm not finding any lemons in my bag, though. Or am I just messing with you? There is a First Date already written.

* * *

Cyborg released Raven from the infirmary the next day, but she stayed away from Changeling's room for a couple of days. Raven waited a couple of days, and when Changeling didn't show for any meals, she went down to the rocks at the foot of the tower. She saw him, facing the water, back to her, skipping stones.

"Hey," she said.

He lifted a shoulder and dropped it, acknowledging her.

"So, you gonna be okay?"

"Eventually. I guess. That's what everybody says. You get over it. Raven," he said, turning suddenly, "what am I doing wrong?"

She blinked, and a drop of sweat popped up on her forehead.

"Umm . . . you're asking _me_ for romantic advice? I've never even had a date."

"Sorry. Good point."

"But I don't think you're track record's that bad, really."

"How so? I've been dumped three out of three."

"Viki didn't want a romance getting in the way of her career. And that's not really a bad decision to make at our age. It had nothing to do with you."

"Maybe if I'd treated her differently . . ."

"No. Don't second guess yourself. You treat women with respect without being distant. You're affectionate without being cloying. You're passionate, gentle, caring, and you never lie. Don't change anything. Viki just wasn't at the right time in her life. Fritzi – wasn't cut out to be a policeman's wife. And Mitzi was . . . my fault. So as far as I can tell, you're doing fine. You'll find the right girl one day."

"If you say so."

Waves crashed on the rocks, throwing a cool mist into the air. The sky was growing dark.

"Storm on the way," Raven observed.

"It's already passed for me."

"You comin' up for dinner? Cyborg said he'd make 'roast tofudabeast,' whatever that is."

Changeling paused. "Ok."

He stood up and faced her. She looked at him closely. His face showed good color, if a little swollen. He'd lost the gaunt look people get when they're dehydrated. His balance was good and he moved smoothly and with confidence. He was recovered, at least physically.

"There's one more thing," she said.

Then she stepped back with her right foot and balanced her weight on her hips evenly. She reached back with her right arm and swung from the shoulder.

"Smack!" Her open hand impacted Changeling's jaw and spun his head around.

He spun back, cheek reddening and he started to speak, but was over-ridden by her shout.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? You almost _died,_ you idiot! What on earth would make you do such a stupid, idiotic thing? WHY? Who asked you to take bullets for me? You have no _right _to put that kind of obligation on me. I can take care of myself. I am a together, independent woman of the new millennium!"

In the sudden silence that fell be blinked. And blinked again, raising his hand to his cheek.

"Well?" she shouted again, waving her arms in the air.

He smiled and spoke quietly. "I wasn't thinking _anything._ I just acted."

She stared at him for a moment, and then swept him up in a hug.

"Don't ever do that again. We almost lost you," she whispered.

He held her close for one heartbeat. The two. Then three. The scent of her filled his senses. As she'd physically matured, Raven's scent had become more complex, just as her personality had gained the shades and textures of an adult woman. Sandalwood. Myrrh. Musk. Books and candles. And then he gently pushed her to arm's length, before he could get himself into trouble.

Still smiling he said quietly, "That's not the way it's going to be. When you are in danger, I just start moving before my brain is engaged. If you don't want me getting shot on your behalf, do not present your back to men with guns."

He leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. Emeralds looked into amethysts from inches away. He spoke quietly. "Because I will _always_ have your back. No matter what."

Raven's mouth opened, but no words came out. She tried again.

"I . . . I. . . I'm going inside. This wind keeps getting sand in my eyes."

"Let's go eat," replied Changeling.

As the following weeks passed, there were other changes in the Tower. One evening, over dinner, Robin had an announcement.

"Um, just so you guys know, I've been promoted," he said.

"Oh really," said Cyborg. "According to who?"

"'According to whom'" Raven interjected.

Robin looked up from his food. "Starfire. I am now longer 'Friend Robin.' I am 'Boyfriend Robin.'"

The sound of crickets could be heard in the Tower common room. The Titans resumed eating.

"No . . . comments or observations?" Robin asked.

"Nope," said Cyborg, slicing some roast beef.

"You do not seem very surprised," said Starfire.

"For you guys," said Raven, "'Discreet' is where you park the T-car."

"I don't know how you managed to keep a secret identity if this was the best you could do," said Cyborg.

"The fault is probably mine. On _my_ planet, these sorts of things are _very_ public. I had to look 'the discretion' up on the internet. Also 'the modesty.'"

"We didn't want to make big deal about when . . ," Robin glanced at Changeling. "Well, we didn't want to pour salt on your wounds dude."

"You should probably work up a press release, though, if you're ready to 'come out.'" Otherwise the tabloids will be constantly speculating," said Cyborg.

Robin colored. "I guess so."

Changeling sighed. "I won't try to tell you that it's hard to work up much enthusiasm. But this has been a long time coming. Congratulations." He smiled, his teeth white against his green lips.

And a few weeks later there was Agnes. Agnes was tall, blond, and freckled with a button nose. She was an athlete who reveled in the outdoors. The two of them swam together, hiked together, sparred together, and went to sports events together. Ultimately, though, she drifted away. The call of the Titan communicator was to blame. And then the Changeling gave up. At nineteen, he was married to his career: helping people. There were worst fates. He could grow old among his friends, and help people until his animal forms became toothless and their vision dimmed.

It was only two weeks after that that he caught himself stalking the corridors, sweeping his head back and forth, seeking . . . something. He cut Raven's scent trail. Idly, his mind wandering, he followed it, up to the roof. She was near the edge of the roof, levitating as she meditated. She faced the west, toward the ocean and the setting sun. The land breeze blew from behind her, pressing her cloak against her body. He stood there, the wind at his back, looking at her silhouette. Her shape showed black against the light of the setting sun. His eye glided over the sides of her high breasts and slender waist. His eyes narrowed as he considered the soft curve of her hips and her fine, firm ass. As the wind blew against his back, it cleared Raven's scent from his head, and he realized what he was doing.

"Asshole," he thought. "She _trusts _you. Why don't we just go back in the door, close it, and not get caught stalking the nice teammate, shall we?"

He shut the door silently, and walked away shaking his head. "I mean, sure, Raven is attractive, but I don't think of her _that _way. I mean, I can't. She'd kill me."

A couple of days after that, Changeling went to the gym to get in some time on the parallel bars in his human form. He's found over the years that the higher up he trained his human form, the better his animal form performed. After about a half-hour of working up a good sweat on the parallel bars he looked up at Robin's rings. He'd done a little training on them, and they might be a good change of pace. He dragged out the springboard and set it in place, stepping back to address it.

Just about that time, Raven came to the door. She watched from the shadows as took the three running steps and leapt onto the springboard. Wingless he soared, and snagged the rings. He pressed downward on the rings and did a backrise to support himself, and swung into a handstand. Then he dropped his feet and spun through the rings into a second handstand, freezing in place. Then a third. Then he dropped to hang from the rings and kicked his feet forward, holding his legs parallel to the ground. Slowly he pulled himself up in between the rings. The muscles across his stomach popped out with the strain of holding his legs out. The tendons in his arms sprang out and his biceps and triceps bulged and he lifted himself once, two, three . . . ten times. She bit her lower lip, watching.

On the tenth rep he dropped a little and popped himself up to the top of the rings and then slowly he began to lower himself into an Iron Cross. Stomach flat, toes pointed and arms straight out from his shoulders. Then he held it for a minute. Then dropped, spun three times and dismounted with a flip, and stuck the landing.

Raven gave him a golf-clap from the doorway, moving into the light.

"Not bad," she said, "Not bad."

"Just a little exercise; I'm no acrobat. What brings you here?"

"Treadmill. I fly or float everywhere, and it's starting to tell in my stamina. I need to get my cardio back in order."

"I'll get out of your way."

"Don't mind me. I'm gonna zone out, face to the wall. Carry on."

And with that, she put in the ear-buds of her MP3 player, turned on the treadmill, and turned her back.

Changeling's eyes roved over her form. Lavender hair in a tiny pony-tail that stuck out cutely from the back of her head, baring the elegant curve of her neck. Sports bra. Grey, dumpy, and uninteresting. But well filled. Her hips flared in a pair of white boy shorts and her legs were bare down to her running shoes.

"Great," he thought. "And now she'd gonna start _sweating, _too. Just what I need."

He moved over to the heavy bag, inspired. He put on a pair of gloves and as, as Raven ran, oblivious, he beat the living daylights out of it. As soon as she broke a sweat, his scent filled his nostrils and he upped the intensity of his workout again. After about twenty minutes, having stayed long enough to be polite, he grabbed his towel and headed for the showers, with one last glance at the treadmill. Raven ran, her pace like a metronome. Sweat beaded on her face and neck. Her breasts bounced _just_ the right amount to utterly mesmerize a 19 year old boy. Her butt-muscles twitched back and forth, swinging her hips ever so slightly.

"No doubt about it," he thought, as he turned away, "Raven runs like a girl. Thank you God."


	16. Ok So I Think of Her That Way

Author's Notes:

shugokage – I'm glad you like it so far. I hope to continue holding your interest. We've got a ways to go. I want to think that I'm approaching the halfway point.

xxMatriarch – Glad to hear from you. I'm happy you like the pacing. There's more interaction with the rest of the team in this chapter, although I could spend some more time fleshing out those relationships. Raven is the character that fascinates me though. I'm not sure that I've ever seen a super hero whose origin story makes for a bigger emotional train wreck. I mean, she makes Bruce Wayne's childhood look like a Sunday picnic. "Oh, poor Bruce, tell me again how your parents are dead."

Miss Roz Hay – Updates seem to have worked out to three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I average about a thousand words a day, so I'm able to keep up at that rate. Plus I've got a backlog of stuff already written. I'm usually about three days ahead, so I don't anticipate any more hiatuses for the time being.

Egg1 – Glad you're still read, and that the pace is satisfying. Things may speed up in the future, but for right now we're pacing about right, I think.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Heh. Heh-heh. Heh. Heh-heh. You said "snatch." Heh-heh. And yeah, Changeling fled the gym before the kettlebell cycle started. Just as well. I think I may have been excessively cruel to him to put her in those white boyshorts.

yumiulrichlovers – Glad you liked it. But don't get ahead of me. The Road to Damascus moment for Garfield is almost nigh. But he's going to have to persuade Raven that he's more than just a goofy, irresponsible child. And that's not going to be easy. He's been "friend-zoned." And as all men know, it's the kiss of romantic death.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – Glad you like it. More to come. But it's starting to twist around like the plot from the General Hospital or Dallas.

Katwizzle – Always glad to hear form you.

jazzybizzle – Romance? Well, a deliberate butt-groping is coming up in the near future. But for who?

JOHNXgambit – "One more thing" is actually a quote from the old Columbo TV show. He used to slowly pick the bad guy to death after saying that.

InfiniteReader – Got another 2000 or so words ready for tomorrow morning sometime, if I can get through the proof reading tonight.

Densharr – Eh, nothing you say as to measure up to anything. Tell me the stuff you like. I might write more of it. Tell me the stuff you didn't like. I might NOT write more of it. Or I might. 'Cause I only get paid in reviews. It gives me a certain freedom to write whatever I feel like.

* * *

It was the annual Wayne Foundation Winter Ball that became Changeling's Road to Damascus. Titan attendance was mandatory at the charity function. A goodly portion of the core Justice League was there and Raven, against her will and grumbling all the way, was in attendance. She insisted on wearing her regular fighting togs, and rolled her eyes as the guys put on rented tuxedos and Starfire dolled up in a formal gown.

"Dressing up is pointless," she said. "There won't be anybody there looking at me."

The Ozymandias ballroom was the swankiest venue in the city and the Wayne Foundation had done it up proper. Glittering snowflakes dangled from the ceiling on invisible wires, and the dark marble floor, flecked with silver veins, made the dancers look like they were floating over the endless night. A huge ice sculpture of the Jump City Bay bridge loomed over the utterly epic buffet. The boys hung close to the wall near the buffet as Starfire was swept out onto the dance floor by partner after partner.

"I still don't get how you don't have a problem with that," said Cyborg, as Starfire was swung out by Wally West.

"Simple," said Robin, with a smug little smirk. "She's going home with _me_. I have to save my energy. Besides, we danced the first dance together, and we're going to dance the last dance together."

It was then that Aqualad made his entrance into the room. The big double doors swung open and he stood in silhouette for a moment in the golden light from the corridor outside. Once he was sure that everyone had noticed him, he swaggered into the room with a cocky stride. He was tall, muscular, and somewhere he'd found the cash for a custom-fitted tux. It was tailored in narrow at the waist and emphasized his heroic physique. His long, wavy hair hand been pulled back into a dashing ponytail and his obsidian eyes glittered. Raven tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and looked out from her hood.

"Maybe a dress and a new pair of shoes might not have been a bad idea, after all," she thought.

She glanced down at her awkward looking blue elf-boots. "I kinda have elegant feet. Maybe some sandals ore something would . . ."

A shadow fell over her, and Raven suddenly looked up straight into Aqualad's face. He been standing there for a minute and had obviously said something and was waiting for a reply.

"Sorry," she said, flushing a light maroon. "I was thinking, and I didn't hear you."

"I asked if I could have this dance?" he said, and smiled.

"Me?" she said, hearts in her eyes. "Sure!"

He took Raven's right hand in his left, and slid his right hand under her cloak to the small of her back and swept her out onto the dance floor.

Raven didn't really know how to dance well, but Aqualad was so skilled and so graceful that he had no problem guiding her through the dance. Even though she barely knew what she was doing, somehow he never stepped on her feet. It took Raven a few moments to fall into the rhythm of the music. She looked up at him. He was over a foot taller than her, and his black-on-black eyes were so mysterious.

"You haven't been to Jump City is quite a while," she said, a little breathlessly.

He smiled at her. "I'm not the one that can fly. I don't think you've _ever_ been to Steel City. You should come out sometime."

She looked up at him. "You know, I think I'd like that."

"I'll call you."

"Sure."

Changeling happened to glance over and see the dancing couple just as Raven smiled.

"Well," he frowned, thinking, "she's, what did she say? 'A together, independent woman of the new millennium.' I guess she can dance with whoever she wants."

He sat down at a table where Cyborg and Robin were relaxing, reclining on the velvet settees and watching Starfire wear out the entire roomful of young men.

"Did you guys seen Raven dancing with fish-boy?"

"They just started," said Cyborg. "He really swept her off her feet, too. You've never liked him; how come?"

"I dunno. He's too tall. He's too buff. He's too pretty," Changeling replied.

"Raven seems to think differently," said Robin, pointing discreetly.

Changeling looked back onto the dance floor just as Raven threw her head back, tossing her hood off and laughing out loud. Her light contralto floated above the crowd noise to hit Changeling's sensitive ears like a hammer on an anvil. He winced.

"She's _laughing!_ How many years did I have to work just to get a smile out of her?" he demanded.

Cyborg and Robin exchanged a knowing look.

"You normally _like _it when Raven laughs," Cyborg observed.

The two dancers spun as the music slowed, and the lights dropped lower. Aqualad pulled her closer. Their feet moved gracefully over the marble tiles as they turned, Raven's cloak flaring dramatically out around them. The other couples began to move over to make more room for them.

Raven inhaled the scent of Old Spice under laid with . . . halibut? "Oh well, she thought. You can't have everything." His hand felt good on the small of her back. His arms were strong and firm. His hands were warm and hard.

Changeling's eyes narrowed as he watched as Aqualad's hand slipped lower.

The air near the boy's table trembled a little with a low, rumbling sound: deep, sharp, and harsh. Robin looked around, concerned. This was Jump City. Robotic monsters showed up at children's picnics. It could be anything.

"Cyborg," he said, "Did you hear that? It sounded like . . ."

"A Gordanian battle-cruiser, slipping a gear. Yeah, I heard it. It was almost sub-harmonic." Cyborg quickly doffed his jacked and rolled up a sleeve to expose his sonic analyzer.

"I didn't hear anything," Changeling said, not taking his eyes off the dancers, as both the light and Aqualad's hand slid lower underneath Raven's cloak.

Raven's breath pulled in sharply as Aqualad's hand cupped the cheek of her ass. Her face burned bright maroon. Mind you, his hand was under her cloak, and the lights were low, so she didn't think anybody would see. But Raven wasn't sure what to think. Although she liked the feel of his hand on her, nobody, but _nobody_ had ever touched her _there. _ And while it was great to feel attractive again, she'd felt attractive once before, and that hadn't turned out at all well. Unsure what to do, Raven did nothing. His eyes held hers.

Author's Note: Girls, this is the _wrong_ decision. I was a teenage boy once, and let me tell you this: A teenage boy will _always_ interpret "no response" as approval to go farther. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Of course, somebody _did _see: the man with the night vision of a cat, and the visual acuity of a falcon. Back at the table, Robin and Cyborg heard the low rumbling noise again.

"Dude," said Cyborg, looking askance at Changeling. "Are you . . . _growling?_"

Changeling, distracted, said nothing. The deep, coarse rumble continued, occasionally rising to the level of a low snarl.

"She's not said anything," he thought. "She seems to be having a good time. It's none of my business. She's not going to appreciate me butting in."

Aqualad leaned over Raven, his face coming close to hers. His lips parted, his eyes closed, and then he _sniffed the scent of her hair._

Author's Note: Ok, here's the thing. Men are often accused of being unable to communicate non-verbally. Nothing could be further from the truth. Men actually communicate very well without words. It's just that we speak "Guy." "Guy" is a very focused language. It's primal, and can only be used coherently to speak about fairly primal topics. "Guy" covers things like food, territory, sports, and the like. It's primarily expressed by how we hold and move our hands, were we place our feet, set our jaws, and make eye-contact. I've tried to write in "Guy" before, and while the guys get it, it tends to leave most women confused as to what exactly happened, so for the benefit of the women in the audience, I'm going to provide a translation of each statement in "Guy" in English, below each statement in "Guy". Now we return to our action.

. . . _sniffed the scent of her hair._ Changeling was out of his seat and moving onto the dance floor before Robin or Cyborg could lift a finger.

"Uh oh," said Cyborg, "should we follow him? I don't like the look of the set to his jaw."

"Let's wait a second and see what he's up to," replied the leader.

Just as he was about to kiss Raven's upturned lips, Aqualad felt a firm tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and turned to face Changeling, who said, "Mind if I cut in?"

_"Hey, fish-lips! That's __mine.__ Watch the hands."_

Aqualad paused, startled. He let go of Raven's ass and turned to face Changeling. "Excuse me?"

_"It's not yours if you can't keep it, shorty. You sure you want to do this, runt?"_

Changeling smiled, showing both his upper and lower fangs, which glistened in the dim light of the dance floor. "I said, 'may I cut in,' please."

_"Oh, I'm totally gonna do this. And I'm gonna do it right now. She and I can dance, or you and I can 'dance.' Your call."_

"Of course," Aqualad bowed a shallow bow to Changeling, and turned to Raven, "I'll be in touch, soon," he said, smiling warmly, and walked calmly away.

_"Listen, kid, I'm way too classy, and way to grown up to let you bait me into a public brawl. Besides, I think you've missed your shot if you ever had one. She's already said I can call her."_

Changeling grabbed Raven's right hand with his left, put his right arm around her waist (at a respectful height, and _outside_ her cloak, and swung her into a waltz.

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"Beast Boy," she said, a little flustered, "What was all that about?"

"I didn't like the way he was sniffing your hair."

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"What?" she said, incredulous.

"It was disrespectful. You're out in public, in the middle of the dance floor, and he's sniffing your hair like . . . like . . ."

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"Like he liked my scent? Maybe some boys do. Why'd you butt in? Is this payback for Mitzi?"

Changeling reared his head back in surprise, "What? No! I haven't given her a thought in weeks. I just . . . wanted to dance with you."

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"Speaking of which," she replied, "What are we dancing, anyway?"

"We're waltzing. It's the only dance I know. Rita insisted I learn how."

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"But the band isn't playing a waltz. Or anything in three-quarter time!" she hissed.

"I know. That's why we're doing that little stutter-step is at the end of each cycle."

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They spun awkwardly around the ballroom for the remainder of the song in silence.

"What the hell?" he thought. "This is different. I must be out of mind."

He looked down. She was the opposite of what he'd always thought of as his "type: tall, blonde, busty, and outgoing." Instead, she was short, dark, slender, and withdrawn. She hardly ever laughed. She was short tempered, didn't 'do fun,' and she was certainly _way_ smarter than he was. She looked up at him, amethysts into emeralds. They were dark, beautiful, and deeper than forever.

"Oh shit," he thought, pulling her a little closer. "I'm in trouble."

1-2-3(4!), 1-2-3(4!), 1-2-3(4!)

If she wasn't voluptuous, she was athletic. Her body was firm in _all_ the right places, and soft in _all_ the right places. She was the bravest person he'd ever known. She was strong. She was loyal. If she was short-tempered, her little snits around her friends were nothing to the fury that poured out her when they were threatened. If she hardly ever laughed, her smiles were incredible when they appeared. He pulled her a little closer, and her scent hit his nose full bore.

"Nope. I'm not in trouble. I'm totally, utterly doomed."

1-2-3(4!), 1-2-3(4!), 1-2-3(4!)

They came to a stop as the music ended to light applause. He held out his arm. She looked at it curiously for a moment, then took it as he escorted her back to her table.

"That," he said, "was enlightening. I gotta dance more often."

"I'm just glad you stayed off of my feet," she replied.

"Speaking of which, I think I'll join the guys, and get off of mine. You in?"

Raven looked around, trying to spot Aqualad, but he was nowhere to be seen. "No, I think I've done my social duty. I'm going to fly back to the Tower."

"Okay," he said. "Let me walk you to the door."

She raised an eyebrow. "I think I can find it."

"Okay," he said. "If I don't see you later tonight, good night."

"'Night," she said, and headed off through the crowd.


	17. Insight In Pepto Bismol and A Call Home

Author's Note:

Okay, the Author's notes are getting a little long, sorry about that, but I think it's really important to respond to my readers, and some of you guys had a lot of questions this time out. Raven's out-of-character behavior should become utterly clear. But you need to brace yourselves. The whole point of your teenage years is to form the adult you're going to be. And these kids are coming to the end of that time in their lives. When we're done, they're not going to be the characters you know from the show. They're going to change. As a friend of mine said, "Do the buckling of the seat belts. We are in for the bumpy ride."

Wind Lane: Thanks for the insight. Reviews are mixed on the author's notes in the middle of the text. Henceforth, any notes not covered at the beginning (to avoid spoilers) will be footnotes at the end. And those of you who skip the foot-notes can just figure it out. So there. As to Raven's maturity, I clearly haven't developed where she is emotionally with enough clarity. The problem is: the character in my head has about 30,000 words more development than the one you guys are reading, and I forgot that. You're right: she's responding like a fifteen-year-old when she's nineteen. We'll see if we can make that clearer by Friday. And it ain't right. And I'm not ever going to tell anybody giving me feedback to shut up. Always speak your mind.

Egg1: I've discovered I get a kick out of making my readers cry. Girly screams are also good. My explanations of the 'guy mind' seem to be coming back half of you liked it and half of you hate it. I'm probably going to streamline my commentary in the future. But Raven's jumped the wrong way, and I couldn't resist explaining why. If necessary, I will simply mark future translations from Guy Speak as such and footnote it.

. : Patience my friend. I cannot _stand_ a tragic romance. I promise you, we'll get to the happy ending. But I have to raise these kids before we can have a happy ending. BB and Aqualad were getting along at the end of Deep Six, but Aqualad failed to win _me_ over. He reminded me too much of the Guys With Cool Cars Who Were On The Football Team when I was in high school. And now he's going pay their Karmic debt.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast: Typical Male all right. Even mature adult women over-think dealing with men. We're very simple creatures. And yeah, I didn't think to write tire flips or a kettlebell rotation in, mostly because when I hit the gym, I do most of my sweating on the treadmill, and I wanted her sweating up a storm to scramble Changeling's brain with her scent.

xxMatriarch: Glad you liked them. They didn't appeal to some folks, so I'll handle them a little differently if they come up in the future. I got you to bite your nails – that's cool. My next goal is to get you to spill your drink.

LadyFelton1994: Oh dear. I hope you're not an Aqualad fan. He's a jerk.

Joseph: Nah, I'm not turning into Dr. Phil, but I don't have kids of my own, and occasionally I am overwhelmed with minor parental impulses. You know, to give advice, provide opportunities, embarrass teens in public, and generally make a nuisance of myself to young people. This is my only outlet. If it weren't for you guys, my nieces and nephews would have to listen to me. I'll try to keep the sermonizing down.

Infinite Reader: Updates on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays if I'm not sailing or otherwise traveling. If you're jonesing, you might check out my other four (much shorter) stories on here.

Heroc: Glad you're enjoying the story so far. Raven is out of character in the previous chapter. A close look with have her out of character in the chapter before that. The reason should start becoming clear soon. I don't want ol' Fish-lips dead. Just publicly humiliated.

SheTheBookNerd: It's very flattering that I'm on the top of your heap for fanfics. You're right, people just don't behave that way; not even teenagers. (I've said that before, I know.)

Hellotheremister: I'm really gratified that you're enjoying the story. (A writer can't hear that too many times.) I'm glad I was able to get you off of the bench and onto the comments field. You have a talent for making writers feel good. Comment early. Comment often. Trying to understand characters motivations is fascinating for me and I'm glad you think that I have these characters down. My approach to the interaction between Changeling and Aqualad really seems to have been a love-it-or-hate it thing. As to the other pairing(s), well, the title _is_ "Love In Shades of Green And Grey." And this thing is already past sixty-thousand words. If I start delving into Starfire and Robin's issues, we'll _never _get done. Still, we'll take a look at at least throwing in a reference. (Although I thought "Discreet is where you park the T-car" was a dead giveaway.)

Hellothere'sbff: Hola. When speaking of writers and in particular me, I'm not going to be bothered by the term 'awesome,' no matter how often it's used. Feel free to use it whenever it seems necessary to you. I'll answer questions, although I reserve the right to change characters and story flow at any moment, so something that I say may be true right now, and completely turn inside out before I'm done. I don't actually follow Young Justice. No time. However, although the producers of Teen Titans worked very hard to be coy about which Robin was working in Jump City during the run of the show, my interpretation is that he's Dick Greyson, formerly of the Flying Graysons, and more recently the second half of "Batman and . . ." My story begins four months after "The End," making Raven sixteen and Changeling fifteen. I've been a little careless with tracking time across the story, and I think it's a little inconsistent, but at this point, three years have passed, making Changeling eighteen and Raven nineteen. My setting overlaps Teen Titans, Justice League (and later – Justice League Unlimited). Should it come to it, Batman Beyond. (God forbid this thing should stretch out _that_ far.) I have _The New Teen Titans Omnibus _in my study for reference, and I use it to fill in back story wherever the cartoons left things out. If things go the way I have them planned, we will see Zatanna again. She figures prominently in Raven's back-story. My name is not Lamont. I chose my pen-name after one of the secret identities of The Shadow, a hero so old he goes back to radio dramas. And finally – why shouldn't I listen to your advice? You've got your own unique life experiences and your advice (from your perspective) is gonna be as useful as anyone else's.

PaulieJuice – Oh, I get it "Polyjuice." That's funny. Glad you like the story.

OneThingFillRead – I simply can't express the warm fuzzies I got by sending you to school on two and a half hours sleep. You're the second person I've sent into academic battle exhausted. You're right; there are too many typos. I'm working on that. I caused a little confusion yesterday when I published, immediately found five on the first page, and ripped it back down to fix it. I write pretty fast. If I only published twice a week, it would be more polished. (Fewer typos and less plot whiplash.)

Victorthe3rd – Yeah. He had absolutely no ground to stand on. He hadn't even planted his flag. But you know, sometimes a man's gotta stand.

Anafire – Glad you like it. It's kinda atypical.

Jimmy – That particular scene flowed from the keyboard very easily. I've been in his shoes. My effort to defend my ground did not work out as well as his did. But then, Aqualad won that encounter. He got permission to call Raven AND Raven ended up thinking Changeling looked like a tool.

Son of Manta – There will be more. I'm actually at a crossroads. I have to decide if Changeling gets her first kiss, or if Aqualad is going to successfully steal it from him.

JOHNXGambit – Yes, but these were young bucks, not silverbacks. If they'd been silverbacks, it would have turned out entirely differently. It worked because they both thought they won. Changeling thought he ran off his rival. Aqualad thought he'd made his rival look like a tool.

yumiulrichlovers – AY! I was kidding – don't worry about getting ahead. Speculating is fun. I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad I was able to provide insight into the male mind.

Didi – Sorry. If I update any more, I have to quit my day job to write, and we can't have that. Amazeballs. No one's ever called me "amazeballs." That's new.

* * *

Raven lay on her bed in her room. She sprawled on her stomach facing the foot of the bed, her knees bent, feet in the air, idly kicking back and forth, resting her chin on her hands. In front of her was a leather bound journal with matching elastic to hold it closed. Beside it on the bed lay an Aurora Alpha fountain pen with a jet case. Just the sort of equipment a sophisticated young urban woman might use to record her thoughts and feelings. Serious journaling gear. She sighed and opened it. It was filled with page after page of doodles. All were similar. A halibut, surrounded by hearts. A shark, surrounded by hearts. A herring, surrounded by hearts. Of course, the fish were all anatomically correct and in the style of 19th century engravings. Raven was nothing if not careful of detail and accuracy.

"But really," she thought, "A notebook full of fish and hearts? I'm pretty sure this isn't normal behavior for a woman my age."

She didn't swim very well. She'd never really liked the water. But she found herself rummaging around in her chest of drawers looking for her bathing suit.

"That's right; I threw it away after that trip to the beach three years ago when Beast Boy said he could 'tell that I was cold.' Dork."

She cut the sleeves off of an old leotard and slipped off down to the pool on the training level. " "I should to review my swimming skills. In case I need to . . . get in the water sometime. Soon."

Once at the pool, she slid into the water and tried to remember the swimming strokes she had been taught. But a lack of interest and a lack of practice did her he. While she was able to keep her head above water and slowing make progress in any direction she wanted, she found that she was utterly unable to slice gracefully through the water like she envisioned doing in the Titan's East pool in Steel City. After an hour or so, she pulled herself up on to the edge of the pool and panted.

"If I go back east like this, I'm just going to embarrass myself," she thought. "And maybe I shouldn't be going anywhere in this state of mind."

She walked back to her room, wet leotard clinging to her curves, lost in thought. As she walked, she failed to notice the emerald green tomcat slinking along the edge of the corridor.

Starfire emerged from the bathroom she shared with Robin, wrapped in a big, yellow bath towel. Her hair, still damp, streamed down her back as she groped among her linens for a second towel to wrap it in. Outside her door, a lone figure stood in the dark corridor. Raven raised her hand to knock on the door. Then lowered it and moved to walk away. Then she raised it again. And lowered it.

The dark girl heaved a great sigh. "No sisters. Mother dead. Spritual advisor dead. No coaches, teachers, or any female authority or confidential figures at all. You have no choice. Get it over with."

She tapped the door once. It immediately whipped open. "Come in Robin, I will be dressed in a . . . RAVEN!"

"Hi Starfire," said Raven flatly. "I, uh, need to talk to somebody about 'girl stuff.'"

Starfire's face lit up and her eyes sparkled. He reached out both hands, grabbed Raven by the shoulders and literally snatched her out of the corridor and off of her feet. Starfire's room was a sea of orchid, plum, carnation, and magenta. To refer to the overall confection as "Pepto-Bismol Pink" would be a gross unfairness to the makers of that fine over-the-counter product. Starfire's bed, a queen-sized round, sat in front of the window. Tossing Raven on the bed Starfire said, "This is really the 'girl talk,' right? Not like the last time. That was _not_ the 'girl talk.' In human terms the girl talk is about boys, or make-up, or boys, or clothes, or boys, or hair, or boys or nail polish, or boys – wait, no, nail polish is also makeup, or skincare or boys, or bathing suits, or boys . . . mmmmppph."

Raven put her hand over Starfire's mouth to stem the tide of verbiage.

"It's 'feelings,' Starfire. And, um," Raven looked down and away. She lowered her voice. "Boys."

"Oh Raven," Starfire squealed, "You have selected a companion from among your suitors! I saw you dancing with him at the Winter Ball. Is it not _wonderful_ to be in love?"

Starfire grabbed Raven, pinning her arms to her sides and squeezed her with a breath-stealing hug. She spun about the room before depositing Raven back on the foot of the circular bed. Raven gasped, trying to recover her breath and rolled her shoulders to confirm that no ribs had broken. The empathy rose and paced across the carpet to look out the window.

"I don't have 'suitors,' Starfire. But there's one boy who's expressed what might be called an 'interest.' And it's affected me strangely."

"I have read much about human love. The first falling in love effects all women strangely. Tell me, does your stomach feel like you have swallowed a flock of butterflies? You have trouble sleeping? Your hands shake and your knees are weak?

"Well, kinda. My head feels stuff with, with fluff. I can't concentrate and I keep thinking about him." She wrinkled her nose. "I feels a little like the flu."

Starfire laughed and took the towel from her hair.

"A moment please, I must blow dry the hair, or it will drip for days, and I have the date tonight."

Starfire opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a simply enormous apparatus. Shaped like a pistol but with a barrel as long as her forearm and twice as thick, its logo read "Binford 2000 Heat Gun." She pulled the ripcord on the back of it, and it roared like a leaf-blower, blowing her thick, crimson hair straight back toward the wall. Raven ducked the backwash.

"Starfire," she shouted, "How can that much heat _possibly_ be good for your hair?"

Starfire yelled back above the noise. "It is not. But my hair is stronger than it looks, and if I do not use this device too often, my hair remains soft. It is only if I use it more than twice a week that I start to get the split ends. Tonight I am in a hurry."

In a few moments, the relative humidity in the room had gone up about forty percent due to the moisture released from Starfire's mane of hair, and Raven had begun to sweat.

"There," said Starfire.

She began to brush her hair, back to Raven.

"Now," she said, "We may continue. You do _not_ have the flu. Our efforts at opening up your emotions are truly beginning to bear the fruit."

"I just keep thinking about how amazing he is."

Starfire, a long time veteran of the romance battlefield smiled quietly as she listened to her friend.

"I mean, for example, he's 'wonderfully tall.' Cyborg's tall, and that doesn't make me think of him differently."

Starfire blinked. "Tall?" she thought. "Changeling is taller than Raven, but not, 'tall.'"

Oblivious, Raven continued. "And his eyes are so . . . mysterious. So – dark."

"Dark? Changeling's eyes sparkle, at least when he is around Raven."

"But what's got me worried is that I spent four hours thinking about running my hands through wavy dark hair, while doodling."

"Changeling does _not_ have the wavy hair."

Raven produced her journal and fanned the fish taxonomy in front of Starfire's nose.

"Is that _normal _for a nineteen year old girl?"

Starfire took the book out of her hands and flipped through it, thought fully.

"Fish? You have fallen for a fish?"

"Aqualad is _not _a fish. And he doesn't have fish-lips," Raven grouched.

"Well, I do not think that this is normal for a nineteen-year-old human girl, but I also do not thing that it is anything to worry about."

"What do _you _know?" Raven flared, irrationally.

Starfire rolled her eyes. "Raven, you asked me to be your . . . emotional guide, and _you_ came to _me_ for the girl talk. You may do the dialing back of the attitude."

"Sorry," Raven muttered, turning away. "See what I mean," she said, continuing to face out the window. "I just – blurt out nasty things, or _do_ impulsive, silly things," she said, thinking of her swimming practice.

"To answer your question, I have made a study of human emotions since you asked me to help you."

Starfire then gestured to a massive pile of magazines near her bed. Raven could make out "Girl's Life," "Seventeen," "Cosmo Girl," "Self," and "Cosmopolitan," to name just a few.

"I tried to understand men's emotions, but all of their magazines spoke of cars, stereos, and the sporting events. They were not very useful."

Raven turned and looked at the massive pile of churned up popular feminine culture.

"Um, Starfire, have you been reading . . . these for _years?"_

"Of course. How else am I to understand earthly ways?"

"I . . . might have been able to suggest more . . . reliable reading."

"In any case, Raven, please tell me more about the odd feelings that are making you so grumpy and uncomfortable."

Raven turned to the window again and, in a low voice, related what had gone on on the floor of the Ozymandias Ballroom, and, even more quietly, under her cloak.

"My goodness. I understand now why you are so confused. You are all filled up with conflicting emotions. I think I can help."

"Really," said Raven, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, really," said Starfire, arching an eyebrow right back.

"Ok, Dr. Phil, what's wrong with me?"

"You are four years old, going on fifteen, and you have the 'schoolgirl crush' on Aqualad."

"What?"

"Raven, your body and mind are nineteen. You are very, very smart, and learn from experience, but until you were sixteen, all you did with your emotions was to throw them into a bucket and do the riveting of a lid on them. You have plenty of life experience in survival, in the rational thought, and in the kicking of the bad guy butt. But you have only _four year's experience_ feeling and reacting to your emotions. Emotions that have been penned up and festering since you were a small child."

She walked over to the pile of girl's and women's magazines. "The writing of the fish and the drawing of the hearts are the acts of a human girl of fifteen or sixteen years of age. The confusion and the not knowing whether you want him to touch you or not is also the way of girls that age."

"Great. You're saying I have the emotional maturity of a fifteen year old. Wonderful." She sat down on Starfire's bed suddenly. A black bolt of power escaped from her chakra stone and exploded one of Starfire's pillows.

"You are looking at this wrong, Friend Raven. In only four years, you have made the fifteen years of progress," said Starfire, blowing feathers out of her way. "You simply must have life experience to learn from."

"That's no problem. Aqualad has invited me to Steel City," Raven smiled.

Starfire thought carefully before responding.

"This is a good opportunity for experience for you, but you should move slowly. Aqualad is older than you, and has had _much_ more experience at the dating that you. He is very pretty, and has had many girlfriends. I think he is what the magazines call 'the playah.'"

"Pfffft," said Raven, rolling her eyes, "What can he do to me? I'm Raven."

"Do the buckling of the seat belts," Starfire thought. "We are in for the bumpy ride."

Changeling watched nonchalantly as Raven left the common room with her tea. As the door closed behind her, Cyborg spoke from next to him on the couch.

"So, you gonna ever _do_ anything about it?"

"About what, Dude?"

"About Raven. You've been diggin' on her since before your little sabbatical."

"No way, man. I mean, sure I like her, but . . ."

"She can't walk across the room without your eyes followin' her. You either need to do something about it, or give up on it, 'cause it's getting on _my_ nerves. After what happened with the citizen-girls, I figured you'd start dating Titan girls. You know, climb different mountains. But man, you're trying to climb Mount Everest, naked.

"There's no way she's going to be interest in anything I've got to offer. I mean, she's such a bookworm. I can barely read."

"Uh huh. You're brighter than you let on, and we all know it. Just follow your instincts."

Changeling grinned, showing gleaming white fangs against red, red gums and palate. "Dude, my _instincts_ are telling me to dismember Aqualad and leave the pieces at the edges of my territory as a warning to the others."

"Ooookay. Maybe not _those_ instincts. You know she likes you, or you'd be dead by now."

"Maybe. But she thinks I'm an idiot."

"No," Cyborg replied, "She thinks you're a _kid."_

"So all I have to do is convince her I'm all grown up?" Changeling said.

"Oh, no man, you're not gonna _convince_ Raven of _anything._ She's made up her mind what role you're gonna play in her life. No amount of debate, argument, or begging is gonna change it. And trying will make you look like a tool."

"So I'm doomed, then?"

"I didn't say that. All I said was that you're not gonna budge her rational side. You're gonna have to work on her emotional, illogical side, and give her a reason to change her _own_ mind," Cyborg answered.

"_Raven's _'emotional, illogical side?'" Changeling asked, sardonically.

"Man, I _said_ you were trying to climb Mount Everest naked. I know it doesn't look like you have much to work with, but she's got emotions and does things impulsively."

"Yeah, a short temper that throws me out of windows."

"You picked the mountain, not me."

"All right, all right. So – you know Raven better than anybody. How do I touch her 'emotional, illogical side' without getting thrown to Outer Perdition? I already know how to do that." Changeling asked.

"She needs to see that you're an adult, not a child. If I were you, I'd start by ditching the moped getting a car."

"Oh, right. Raven's the type to be impressed by a cool car. What should I get? A 'Vette? Or a Trans-Am?" Changeling rolled his eyes.

"It's not the car. It's what it symbolizes. For Americans, the automobile is a symbol of our individuality, our independence, and our freedom. Face it, man; mopeds are for girls and children. They're one step up from a scooter. A real car symbolizes that you're ready to take responsibility, be independent, and stand up for yourself. And by extension, her. And as much as _I _love a classic muscle car, you should stay away from those. She'd laugh at them, and call them 'penis substitutes.' You need something solid, stylish without being flashy, and mature without being frumpy. Poke around and see what you can find third-hand, and I'll help you get it fixed up. But a new chariot is only a starting point. You've got to show her you're a man, and not a boy. That's all about responsibility."

"I see what you mean. I'll give it some thought."

"Also, you need to ask her out on a read date. Not just 'hanging out,' not just 'grabbing some pizza," but an actual time to be together, alone with her, having fun, and presenting ourself not as a friend, not as a teammate, and not as a little kid, but as a man."

It was some time later that Changeling found himself in his room, contemplating his belt communicator. Not the yellow one with the T on the cover. The _other_ one. It was black, with a purple triangle embossed on it, point down. It was dented, dinged, scratched and scraped. There was dried mud on one corner, blood on the back, and he thought he saw some dried savanna grass caught in the hinge. He flipped it open.

"Of course," he thought. The battery is dead. I haven't charged it for _years._"

He rustled around in a drawer, found a battered old charger, and plugged the device in to charge.

"In the meantime . . .," and settled into his desk chair.

The young man opened his notebook computer, initiated a network connection, and then typed in a series of numbers from memory. A virtual window popped open, black with a purple triangle. Over the middle of the window, words began to appear.

"Identity 'Beast Boy' validated. Sec-protocol outdated beyond normal acceptable parameters. Line security may be compromised – continue Y/N?"

He replied to the prompt, and responded to a few more prompts before getting: "?" He entered "Seek: Elastagirl," and waited.

After a few minutes the window flickered, and a woman in her late-forties appeared on the screen. She had auburn hair shot through with gray and a strong jaw. She was spectacularly beautiful as she smiled in surprise.

"Garfield! I thought it was a comnet glitch! How are you?"

"Hi Rita. I'm pretty good. How are you?"

"As you can see, I'm doing well."

"And Steve?"

"Oh, you know Mento. Nose to the grindstone. Shoulder to the wheel. Ear to the ground. Honor, Duty, and so on. He works too hard, doesn't sleep enough, and seems to thrive on stress. But you didn't call to check in. You _never_ call to check in. What's on your mind?"

"Girls. Well, one girl in particular. I have some questions . . ."

She blinked. "I thought you and your Dad had _that_ talk a _long _time ago."

"No!" he said, quickly. Then, with great dignity he continued. "I don't have _any _questions about 'plumbing.' Trust me, that all works _just fine. _It's . . . understanding."

"I see. Well, I haven't been a teenage girl for a _very _long time, but I'll try. What did you want to ask about?"

"Well, I have this friend, see . . ."

"A friend?" she arched an eyebrow. "Garfield."

"Wait, no. It's like this. I've been dating for a while."

"I know. You've been cutting a wide swath through the coeds at UCJ, or so I hear."

"How did you know about that?"

Rita grinned. "We mothers have our ways to keep track of our children, even when they are grown. Don't expect me to out my resources."

He laughed. "Ok, ok. Anyway, those relationships start out great, but they've been falling apart on me after a few weeks or months. Every girl is different, but it seemed like it was most often my work that was coming between us. Apparently, dating a Titan is like dating a cop, or a firefighter. And that's hard, apparently."

Rita nodded sympathetically. "Being an actress is similar. When I was in Hollywood, I didn't have the added stress of risking my life every day, but the unpredictable schedule, long hours, and sudden absences from home made it hard to get close to anyone who wasn't in the business."

"Right," he said. "That's where I have this friend. And I'd like her to be more than a friend. But . . ."

"She doesn't think of you 'that way,'" Rita finished for him. "So," she went on. "You've fallen for one of your little colleagues. How cute." She smiled and continued. "Let's see – the tabloids are full of Robin and Starfire's doings." She raised an eyebrow. "Tell me Garfield, have you been dipping your pen in somebody else's inkwell?"

Changeling's eyes widened, "MOTHER!" he barked.

She grinned, "Okay – that leaves the little witch then. What's she like?"

Changeling grimaced. "Please don't call her that. She's not a witch, and it hurts her feelings."

"Really?" Rita replied, surprised. "Well, the girl does everything but wear a pointed black hat and ride a broomstick. If she doesn't want to be called a witch, you might want to hint to her that she should update her look to something a little less October 31st. So – okay. Not a witch. I'm sure she's very nice or you wouldn't be smitten."

"Weeeeelllll . . ." Changeling hedged. "Nice isn't _exactly _the word. She's pretty. She very brave. And smart. And Incredibly loyal. I think that she might be smarter than Mento or the Chief! And she's powerful. She's probably the most powerful person on our team."

"And you want me to tell you how to get her to see you as a boyfriend material."

"Well, yeah."

"Son, you're looking at a world of hurt. A girl normally decides if she finds a man attractive in the first 90 seconds after she's met him. She sticks him in a "potential mate" or "potential friend" category, and that's pretty much that."

Changeling sighed, "My friend Cyborg thinks I should get a car."

"Well, that's not a bad idea. You're not still puttering around on that little moped, are you?"

"What is _with_ people and my moped? I _like _it."

"Yes, Garfield. But it's a toy. Time to decide: are you a boy, or are you a man?"

There was a long pause. "Okay," Changeling said. "What next?"

"You might try taking on more responsibility at Titan Tower, and executing it well. And I don't mean cleaning the toilets, I mean making and taking responsibility for critical decisions. Think for yourself; make decisions; stick to them."

"Cyborg also says I should ask her out on a real date."

"Well, that should go without saying."

The talked some more, and then he came to a decision. "Rita," he said, "I'm thinking about dipping into Mamma and Papa Logan's money."

Rita froze. "That's . . . a bit of a shock. You swore up and down you'd never touch that money."

"I know. It and the house in LA are really the only things my parents left behind. I felt like, if I spent it, when it was gone, they'd be gone, too."

She spoke gently, "But they_ are_ gone, sweetie."

"I know Rita. That's the logic of a child. And I'm not a boy any longer."

Rita frowned, thoughtfully. "Don't go wild. Not only would it not be good for you in general, overspending won't impress your little girlfriend, at least not if she's a s smart as you say. And while your birth parents left you a tidy sum, it's not infinite.

They spoke for a while longer, and Rita gave him some more specific advice. After a while, though, she gave him some parting words. "Flirt with her, but don't worship her. If she's a real woman, she's gonna want a man, not a puppy. Falling at her feet is bound to get you stepped on."

Rita smiled one more time, then broke the connection. The purple triangle re-appeared, with the prompt "?" waiting his input. Changeling stared at the blinking cursor for several minutes, lost in thought. Closing the virtual window, he picked up his Titan communicator, accessed the cell-phone network, and dialed a number in the greater Los Angeles area.

"Consolidated Universal Investments, this is Lisa. How can I direct your call?" Her voice was somehow, young, chipper, and perky, yet distance and disinterested. The perfect sterile receptionist.

"Vernon Questor, please."

"Can I ask to what it is pertaining?" said Lisa.

"Questor will know. My name is Logan," replied Changeling.

"Sir, Mr. Questor no longer deals directly with clients. Your account has almost certainly been moved to another agent. Mr. Questor is the Chief Executive Officer, now."

Changeling sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Assert yourself," Rita had said.

"No time like the present," he thought.

"My name is Garfield Mark Logan. Look me up in your damn files and then ask Questor if he wants to talk to me, or have me shift my funds to Wells Fargo, effective immediately."

Lisa sighed, and Changeling could hear her typing away on a keyboard. There was a short gasp and then, "I'm so sorry Mr. Logan. Your account has been flagged. I'm to put you through to Mr. Questor immediately. Hold please."

"That's okay," Changeling said.

There was a _very_ short wait, and a dry, older man's voice came on the line.

"Garfield," he said. "It's been a long time. Frankly, I'd given up on you accepting any of your responsibilities."

"Whoa Questor. Let's back the civic responsibility truck up. You're doing a fine job managing Steve and Papa's resources; you don't need me."

"Then what . . ."

"I want you to set up a draw account for me. I need some money. Probably a considerable amount."

There was a long pause. "I see. May I ask . . .?"

This time it was Changeling who paused. One the one hand, it was none of Questor's business. Plus, he had a poker up his ass that made the one up Robin's look like a piece of string. On the other, he'd managed the Logan money and resources since Papa and Mama Logan had died. He ran Steve's business when he was off chasing the Brotherhood of Evil. He'd been scrupulously honest. At no point had a dime gone missing and everything had run smoothly and professionally. He's been loyal and utterly, utterly discreet.

"Well, there's this girl . . ." he trailed off, embarrassed.

The voice at the other end of the line spoke again. Ever so slightly warmer. "I see. Be careful sir. Not all women are what they seem. Never-the-less, if she can get you to be even slightly involved in your legacy, it's to the good. Did you have an amount in mind?"

"Well, a lot. I need a car, some real clothes, and there may be other things. It's time to start acting like a grownup."

"I think I understand. I will prepare a drawing account in your name at the Jump City First National Bank. The manger there, Montgomery Dewclaw is an old friend of mine, and will take care of you. He can also put you in touch with a trustworthy automobile dealer and tailor."

"Thanks."


	18. Unexpected Manipulator And Hurt Feelings

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs –

SavoirofVideoGamelands1: Glad to hear from you. I hope to not disappoint. But I'm reaching a point where I can no longer please everybody. Please keep your arms inside the cart.

Sergeant Daniel: I draw most of my inspiration from the show, but the show misses a _lot _of back-story, (and they did it on purpose) so I draw from the early comic books to fill in the gaps. Life is turning out so utterly different than poor Raven ever imagined that her head is spinning. Don't expect wedding bells for at least another 30,000 words.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Oh, he's totally been a "really nice guy for a really long time." And He's also seen what good it's done him. So he's making some changes.

LadyFelton1994 – Oh, I've only started in on Aqualad. He's so gonna get what's coming to him.

InfinteReader – Welcome to the discussion. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I hope to never disappoint.

Katwizzle – I'll give you a hint: more than Ma and Pa Kent. Less than Dr. and Mrs Wayne.

Densharr – "Remember, if it doesn't say 'Binford,' somebody else made it."

Nicoletteschmidt – Good call.

BoutsofInsanity42 – I can't deny you have a point. It's a good one, and I only hope you can write around me. Y'see, the key aspects of manhood are, in fact, generosity of time, treasure and energy, defense of the weak, acting responsibly, and being sound of mind soul and body. The thing is, Changeling has been all of these things since he was nine. So the changes he makes are going to have to be more symbolic. We'll see if I can make it work, be believable, and not wreck the character, eh?

JohnXGambit – It's begun. Let's see if we can all survive.

Lord Anubis Judge of the Dead – Yeah, the challenge is to make the romance believable amidst an unbelievable environment, and to develop the characters without taking them completely out of themselves. Raven is proving to be a particular challenge.

Guest – Thanks for the note. Hope to see you around.

SheTheBookNerd – That's the thing, isn't it. I could write a bunch of vignettes, and not change who Garfield Logan is, but in order for him to successfully romance Raven, he's got to grow up. I mean, it would be easy enough for me to get them both drunk and throw them into the sack OR I could jamb them together and have them date for a while. But I just don't see Raven ever being able to hitch her wagon permanently to a guy who doesn't do laundry until he can no longer step over it.

AnnaMonique007 – Welcome to the party! Like you, I find the pairing fascinating, because they have so much to offer each other in insight and perspective. And trust me, I didn't plan on taking this much time to get to know them. This thing has taken on a life of it's own.

Egg1 – Sorry. I thought you said I'd made you cry. Or squeal. I must have mixed you up with someone else. I wonder who I'd have to tragically kill off to make you cry? As for Raven and ol' Fish-lips? Well, there are consequences for dating the Hot Guy With the Cool Car while the Nice Guy languishes over by the punch bowl.

OneThinkGillRead – Always great to hear from you. I've got enough written to maintain the MWF schedule, but we're catching up to what I've written, and I may have to slow down. I'm glad I can make you laugh. Humor's hard. I'm keeping a few readers around and I haven't had to dip too deeply into the adult themes bucket. I'm a little gunshy. I've seen some pretty hot scenes in this forum, but according to the rules, I can get banned for getting "explicit." Anybody know what "explicit"means? I thought I did, but then I read some of this stuff. Whew.

General Notes:

I don't speak Spanish to any useful extent, although apparently Starfire does. Accordingly, I just typed up what I wanted and threw it into Google translate. If anybody out there is a native speaker and would care to translate for me, drop me a PM and I'll send you the original text, and you can translate it for me. It gets worse in a later chapter when we find out that Changeling speaks French. And there's a perfectly good reason, too. I didn't even have to cram it into his head. And takeaway from this is yes, we're going to see Mas y Menos. Hope you like my interpretation.

* * *

Raven had practically vibrated with excitement. She'd spent three days getting ready to head to Steel City, even though she had nothing to pack but a closet of identical blue leotards, elf boots and cloaks. Her toiletries were limited to a toothbrush, hairbrush, and some personal body wash, as her skin was kind of sensitive. Starfire had just about despaired of getting Raven to be careful.

"Friend Raven," she had tried again, "In your current state of mind, you need to be very careful. You must think things through before you say and do them."

"Do you think I should grow my hair out? He wears _his _hair really long. Do you find your long hair gets in the way in the water?"

"Well," replied Starfire, "I do but, your hair is much finer than mine and will . . . Don't do the changing of the subject! You are not thinking clearly, and you should not rush into any decisions you may regret later. Think before you speak, and especially before you act."

"What can go wrong? I'm just going to visit some friends, right? Besides, you'll hug and kiss anybody who walks too close. What if I choose to express myself?"

"I have nineteen years experience being guided by my passions. I have the thick skin. Your passions are newly grown, and sensitive. I just want you to be cautions. Remember, humans have to stand before they can fly."

"If I recall correctly, you said _Tamaranian_ newborns can fly before they can stand. "In fact," she suddenly flared, "You mocked me for it. Well, I'm not entirely human either. So don't judge me by human standards. I'm a demon."

"Please friend Raven, just . . . be careful."  
"Whatever," she said, and headed for the hangar, overnight bag on her shoulder.

Starfire walked slowly to her room after seeing Raven off in her Shard of the T-ship. She would have a four-hour flight at standard cruising speed at atmospheric altitudes. With all five Shards assembled, the T-ship could go considerably faster in space, but a single shard, in the atmosphere, which Cybog called 'goo,' was much slower. This gave Starfire plenty of time to take some . . . steps.

She sat at her vanity, fingering her belt communicator and thinking very carefully. Robin had told her in no uncertain terms that they should mind their own business when she had asked his opinion about what to do. Cyborg had actually put his hands in the air and backed away, refusing to even speak. And Changeling . . . she could not involve Changeling in this business, for his own good. If this went bad, it would go very bad indeed, and she did not want to splash Zorka-juice on him if things went bad.

Starfire opened the communicator and pressed a sequence of numbers she'd never needed before. A few moments later, a twelve-year-old boy with red hair appeared on the screen.

"?Hola, que tal?"

"Mas? It's Starfire."

"Senorita Starfire? !Gran sapos cornudos, es la pelirroja hermosa!"

There was a brief struggle as his identical twin wrestled his way into the visual pickup.

"Es muy bueno verte de nuevo. ¿Cuál es el motivo de esta agradable sorpresa?"

Starfire smiled gently. She felt a little guilty. The young men had a childish infatuation with her, not unlike Raven's own infatuation with Aqualad. It wasn't very nice to take advantage of them like this, but Raven need to be prevented from making any disastrous mistakes until her head cleared, and Starfire had very little time, and alternative that she could see. She spoke.

"Hello boys. Do you remember my friend Raven?" she asked.

"Sí, la conozco. Ella viene a pasar el fin de semana en la sala de Aqualad," they replied, waggling thier eyebrows.

"Boys! When you speak of my friend you will speak with respect. You know it's not proper for her to spend the weekend in Aqualad's room. Why would you say such a thing?"

The boys replied, "Lo sentimos señorita Starfire. Pero él ha estado presumiendo de lo que una vez caliente se le va a mostrar este fin de semana."

"And would a true caballero speak in such a way?"

"No señorita, un caballero no diría esas cosas," they replied.

"All right boys. I need a favor. Will you help me protect my friend? Aqualad is clearly no caballero, and she should be protected, yes? If you will prevent him from getting her alone any this weekend, and don't get caught at it, I will take you to the beach next summer."

"Sólo el tres?"

"Yes, just the three of us."

"¿Va a usar el bikini púrpura poco?"

"Yes, I will wear the little purple bikini. Do we have a deal?"

"Mas y Menos, si pudemos!"

The boys broke the connection from the other end. Starfire sighed. She really didn't like manipulating the boys this way, although they certainly didn't seem to mind. She smiled slightly. They enjoyed a good prank, and were likely to drive the Atlantean lothario insane with frustration over the next two days. She _really_ hoped Raven never found out.

When Raven returned two days later, Starfire met her in the T-Ship hangar.

"Did you have a nice trip?"

"Not really," said Raven, flatly. "I've never seen a road trip go that badly. Fate was simply against this date.'

"What happened?"

"Well, for starters, Mas y Menos were playing bat mitten on the helipad, so I couldn't land when I arrived. They tried to clear the way for me, but one of the poles got stuck and they couldn't clear it. Eventually Bumblebee told me to land on the lawn, but just as I was about to shut down the engines, they cleared the landing pad, so I had to power back up and move the shard to the hanger. Aqualad finally came to greet me, and I swear he was about to kiss me when the alarm went off."

"Alarm," said Starfire, startled.

"Uh-huh. Some C-list bad guy called, get this, 'Blunderbuss.' Kid you not, he had a Pilgrim theme. Carried a giant old-timey gun the size of a cannon, and had buckles on his shoes and hats and all."

"How very silly!" Starfire laughed.

"Yeah, well, silly or not, he was quick on his feet, and it took us half the evening to run him down. By then it was late, so instead of the dinner a deux Aqualad planned, we grabbed pizza with the rest of the team. THEN, when we got home from dinner, somehow his waterbed had developed a leak, and flooded not only the guest bed he had set up for me, but his entire room. All my clothes were soaked. The Titans East set me up in a guest room for the night, but he's got that whole 'become weak and eventually die if I get dehydrated thing going,' so he had to sleep in the pool."

"That was . . . most unfortunate."

"That's not the half of it. We tried to go for a romantic walk on the lakeshore, and things were just beginning to get heat up, when an automated garbage barge started dumping it's load right in front of him."

"Oh, dear," said Starfire. "Aqualad does not react well to the water pollution."

"He's a regular Captain Planet. He had a conniption fit. Nothing would do but we assembled the entire team and spent the rest of the morning until just after lunch cleaning up the mess. I smelled like a rotten banana and looked like a drowned rat. That was when he found the skunk. I don't know what he did to piss it off, but . . . well; no one could get near him for the rest of the weekend. I would have come home right after that, but I was too gross to get into the Shard, so I took a shower and fell into bed. I didn't even stay for breakfast."

"How . . . disappointing that must have been for you."

"No kidding. He's going to call me later and we'll try again.

The two girls walked to Raven's room, and Starfire left her there, with her simple unpacking. Safely in her room, Starfire opened her communicator.

"Mas?" she said.

"Sí te pierdas Starfire. Estamos aquí."

"Raven just told me about her trip. Did you really play all those pranks on Aqualad?"

"Señor Trabuco presentó por su cuenta. Hicimos el resto de ellos. Conseguir la mofeta a aparecer sin ser rociado fue difícil. Nunca nos vio venir, y se escapó limpio. Por lo tanto, el bikini morado, ¿no?"

"Yes, the purple bikini. A deal is a deal. I'll be in touch to plan our beach trip this spring."

Starfire shut down her communicator and sighed. "Well, Changeling," she thought. "I have bought you the time. Now you need to do something with it."

"Fang and Claw," Beast Boy thought, "This is a mistake. I know this is a mistake. She barely tolerates me as it is."

Inside her room, Raven could hear him pacing in the dark corridor outside. She couldn't tell what he was muttering to himself, but she knew he was there. She waited patiently, until there was a knock at her door. Odd – it was soft. Almost tentative. Normally Beast Boy banged on the door like he was trying to knock it down. She put down her book and went to the door, raising her hood.

"What?" she said, opening the door. Beast Boy stood there rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Hey Raven, um . . . so, are you busy?"

"I was reading," she said flatly. "What do you want?"

"Well, I was wondering if, maybe, you might like to gooutwithmesometime?" he said, running his words together all in a rush. He smiled a toothy, endearing grin.

Her eyes widened. She blinked. "Did you just ask me out on a date?" she said sharply.

"Ummm . . . yes? Kinda?"

She frowned, squinting, and a tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows. Her eyes sparked as she reached for the door controls. "No!" she said, nearly shouting, and the door slid shut with a sharp bang.

Changeling stood alone in the dark corridor, staring at the door. He'd expected to get shot down, but what was up with that? "Raven," he called to the closed door, "Did I say something wrong?"

Her voice, muffled by the door, replied, "Go. Away. Now."

His shoulders sagged and the points of his ears drooped. He turned away and made his way back to his room, completely baffled.

In her room, Raven angrily stomped to her bed. She sat down and savagely yanked her legs into the lotus position.

"I thought he was my friend." A single tear ran down her cheek.

"Jerk. I KNOW I'm a freak. I KNOW romance is never going to happen for me. I didn't need him rubbing it in with one of his cheap, corny, juvenile practical jokes."

She began to chant her mantra and to try to meditate. She drifted up a few inches into the air over her bed.

"A-azarath, Metrion, Z-zinthos . . .

A-a-azer . . ., Azer . . . "She broke off, and dropped to the bed, and sobbed softly.

The next morning the team rambled around the common room preparing and eating breakfast while a cloudy day rolled around the bay, tapping at the window of Titan tower with occasional flickers of gentle rain.

"Anybody seen Raven?" asked Robin as he stood to take his dishes to the sink. "I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon."

"Not me," Cyborg responded. "I spent all yesterday in the hanger. The T-ship needed maintenance. You know Rob, I could use your help a little more often on that sort of thing – not just when you need to work on your bike."

"Sorry Cyborg. I've been making sure Slade doesn't manage to set up shop here again. I can't find a trace of him."

"That's because he left the city right after the end of the world. No matter how much fun he has tweaking your nose for you; it's not worth getting body snatched by one of the rulers of Hell."

"All right, all right."

"I have not seen Raven this morning, either. I hope that she has not decided to lock herself in her room again. The last time she did, she did not come out for two weeks," said Starfire.

But no one saw Raven that day, or the next day, either. There were no alerts, so the Tower remained quiet. On the third day, early in the morning, the door opened, and Raven strode in. Her head was held high, her back was stiff, her hood was up, and she looked neither left nor right. She went straight to the cabinet, brewed her tea without speaking, and left.

"Ooookay," said Robin. "That's a little unfriendly, even for her. Did anybody say anything to make her mad?"

All heads turned to face Changeling, who blanched and said, "Why's everybody looking at me?"

"Well BB," said Cyborg, "You ARE the one who can tick her off just by breathing the same air as her."

"I do not like to say it," agreed Starfire, "But Cyborg is right. When it comes to getting into the skin of Raven, you are most . . . talented."

"It's 'under the skin,' Star," said Robin. "But they're right Changeling. Spill it."

"I don't KNOW. All I did was ask her out on a date! I mean, I didn't think she liked me, but I had to take the chance."

"Oh, that is most wondrous Beast Boy, where are you going to go on your date?" Starfire clapped her hands.

"There isn't a date, Starfire. She turned me down flat, and got all mad."

"I think you need to go apologize," said Robin.

"I already tried. For three days," Changeling said. "She won't open her door. She won't talk to me. She won't listen to me. She doesn't respond to the communicator, and she deletes all my e-mails unread. All she said was 'That's not funny.' And then she threw me out a window."

"Ah," mused Cyborg. "That explains the broken window on the habitat floor."

"Well," Robin said, "If she won't listen to you, there's not much else we can do."

"I'm not gonna stick my neck into that noose, that's for sure," said Cyborg.

Starfire narrowed her eyes. "Boys," she muttered, and drifted toward the door.


	19. Bridges and To the Mall of Shopping!

Author's Note Updated: 9/26/2012

Hmmmm . . . . Joseph advises me that I have pulled dialogue from Gwaihir10's wonderful story, "Deadpan Love." I will cop utterly to wanting to use the story ideas. Some of the interactions between the characters are utterly classic. In particular are the Chess Game, and the Mugging. I did fail to cite the idea here in Chapter 19. (The Mugging, in Chapter 20, is already cited.)

I've gone back and reviewed "Deadpan Love" and my own work side-by-side. I have made some changes to more differentiate my take on this scene from Gwahir10's, and I've completed removed the interaction with Robin, as it did nothing to advance the plot or characterization, at least in the way that I've approached it.

- Lamont

* * *

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

Egg1: Don't worry about it. I'm just messing with you.

InfiniteReader: Glad to hear from you. Hope you like the direction I've taken.

RandomDalmatian326: You're just being fashionably late, and making an entrance. I'm glad the Spanish was OK-ish, 'cause I really don't speak it. I've already incorporated your suggestions in my text, but I've not uploaded the correction yet, pending more corrections. Just let me know.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – How 'bout a quote from David Lo Pan: "There have been others, to be sure. There are always others, are there not? You seem to be one who knows the difficulties between men and women. How seldom it works out. But still we keep trying . . . heh, like fools!"

guest me – It was actually something of a tossup for me. I broke a cardinal rule of writing when I approached the weekend in Steel City the way I did. Raven sums the whole thing up in a half dozens sentences. I _told _you when I should have _showed_ you. But that would have been another five thousand words, and this thing has already gotten to insane lengths.

JohnXGambit – Nice metaphor.

Katwizzle – But how could she think anything else? Her self-image is AWFUL and he's never demonstrated that he can take ANYTHING serious in his life.

yumiulrichlovers – Thanks. I did my best with espanol. I may return to Raven's weekend in Steel City one day and actually show it, rather than just tell it.

Guest – Hopefully, Changeling will get a break, however briefly.

Sharpclaws – Glad to hear it. Welcome to the party.

* * *

Just a few notes – I remain grateful for all the feedback that I get. It's a real kick to get those notifications that I've been followed/favorited. No chapter spoilers here except to say that there's some bridge building and friendship repair to be done. Looking on down the road, there's a big date coming up that I put hours and hours into. But don't get too comfortable. Teenage girls don't always show the best judgment. (There. Foreshadowing – a substantive literary device.)

* * *

A few minutes later, Starfire stood outside of Raven's door. This was going to call for her characteristically delicate and subtle Tameranian touch. As always, she would be the soul of sensitivity and diplomacy. Her friend was clearly hurting, and needed help. She tapped gently on the door.

"Friend Raven, may I come in. I need to have the 'girl talk.'"

"No. Go. Away."

"Please Friend Raven."

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to see anyone.

"Raven, I am all alone. You are my only friend that is a girl in twenty seven light years. I am banished from my home and can never return there. I have a problem; I need help; you are the only one to whom I can turn. Please."

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Starfire's face turned red and steam shot out of her ears. "You are being a complete _clorbag_ valblernek, and I will not go away until you let me talk to you. I am quite capable of pulling this door down, and you will find me much harder to throw out of a window than Changeling, and far harder to intimidate than Cyborg. Open this door or I shall wad it up like the foil of tin!"

There was a pause, and the door hissed open. No other sound could be heard. Starfire walked cautiously into the room. There was no light other than what came in from the dim hallway. Starfire raised her hand and it began to glow green.

"Raven, where are you?"

An undefinable grunt came from the area of the bed. Starfire lit some of Raven's candles. As the golden light of the candles spread across the bed, Raven's dark face was revealed. She was a wreck. Her hair was mussed and awry. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Her cheeks were puffy and she was moving very slowly.

"Friend Raven, what has happened?"

"Nothing."

"Friend Raven, you do not normally lie to me. You are not very good at it. You look like the north end of a south-bound gristhorf. Changeling has hurt you, has he not?"

Raven squeezed her eye shut tightly. They were beginning to burn _again._ "I thought he was my friend. I didn't expect him to treat me like this. I wasn't ready for it, so it hit me harder than I expected."

"I do not understand. I thought he asked you out on 'the date?'"

"Starfire – when I was a little girl, it became completely clear that I was absolutely alone. There is _no one_ like me, anywhere. I'm half demon. Then I came here, and the Titans welcomed me. It was hard to make myself believe that, but it was true. I got a home, a purpose, and I thought a family. I always knew that I would have none of those. And yet here they were. So I guess, somehow, I let myself hope that one day, I'd have somebody feel about me, the way Robin feels about you. Then came Malkior, and my 'date' with Aqualad."

"Raven, I do not think –"

"LOOK AT ME!" She spun on Starfire, shouting, "I'm a freak! Did he think I didn't KNOW? Ha ha. Hee hee. Funny. The little geek's _so_ fucking _funny._"

"Raven –"

"I'm ugly. I'm unstable. I'm dangerous. Maybe, in some ways, I'm EVIL. But I'm not blind. And I'm certainly not STUPID," she turned away, hands balled into fists, and eyes once again tightly shut.

Starfire paced through the gloom to stand over to the bed. Turning Raven around, Starfire grasped her by the chin. "I think that three days of 'the drama' and the 'jags of crying' are enough. You have flown to the conclusion erroneously and jumped off the handle unjustified."

Raven blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You will come with me now."

"No."

Starfire's eyes narrowed and began to glow an iridescent green. She was Raven's friend that is a girl, and she was sympathetic to her pain, but Starfire was not known for her patience.

"Humans," she thought. "Why does dealing with their feelings have to be so hard?"

Her hands curled into fists and her jaw set. "You will, and you will do it quietly and with good grace, or by the nine moons of Mutara, I will pick you up by your grebnaks and _drag you_."

The two young women glared at each other, verdant eyes into purple. Raven blinked first, and turned her head away. They left Raven's room and silently drifted toward the common room. Cyborg's voice floated up the corridor to them. Starfire lifted a finger and made a shushing motion.

"Listen," she whispered.

". . . is my fault. I was the one who told him to do something about it," Cyborg was saying.

"Changeling, you told me this wasn't going to be a problem," Robin said.

"Robin, I still don't know what I did. Cyborg said that if I was that attracted to her, I should just ask her out. If I got shot down, at least I could quit obsessing."

"Maybe I should just go away again. I mean, the team did fine without me when I was on leave, and Raven's way more powerful. It makes sense that I should be the one to leave. There's plenty of work to do with the Doom Patrol. Or maybe I can get an interview with the Justice League."

"Changeling," said Robin, "We didn't do 'fine.' We 'got by' while we were a man short, but you're no less a member of this team that I am. You're not going anywhere."

"Besides," put in Cyborg, "I still can't figure out what he's done wrong."

"Neither can I," said Changeling.

Raven blinked her eyes. "I thought . . . "

Starfire shushed her, and led her back down the hall.

"I . . . I thought he was joking. I thought he wanted me to say yes, so he could laugh at me."

"Friend Raven," Starfire started out gently as they paced back to her room. "You have known Changeling for many earth-years now. Have you ever, ever known him to hurt someone if he could avoid it?"

Raven looked at her feet, "Well, no, but his jokes are . . . "

Starfire broke in, "Silly, juvenile, and self- centered. But they never have had an ounce of the mean,_ have they?"_

"Um . . ."

"They have not, and you know it. So even if it was a joke, which it was most certainly not, he was not trying to be mean. Whereas you, with the snarking and the insults and the grumpy sadness are mean to him all the time." Starfire began to raise her voice.

"I have no other place to be. 'This is my home,' you said." Starfire poked Raven in the shoulder. " 'This is my FAMILY,' you said." Starfire poked her again. "Well, they are my home and family, too, and now you have broken them. You will clean yourself up, you will put on the 'big girl panties' and you will fix this now, please!" She finished in an almost shout as they reached Raven's room.

Raven raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "OK. OK. I owe someone an apology. But not now. I need to clear my head, meditate, and get under control, or I'll just mess it up again."

"Tonight, then," said Starfire, "Or . . ."

"Keep your hands off of my grebnaks. I'll do it."

Raven took a shower and washed her hair. She changed into a clean uniform and buckled on her jewelry, then pinned on her cloak. She meditated. And in general did everything she possibly could to avoid thinking about the coming scene. She'd had it completely wrong. She'd treated Beast Boy horribly. She's caused a hideous amount of tension in the Tower, and she'd done it in front of their friends. She considered waiting by his room and whispering an apology from behind her hood. "Big girl panties, indeed." She'd made her mess in front of her friends. She needed to clean it up there.

"I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never had to do anything like this before." And she hadn't, really. Her previous repressed existence mostly prevented her from hurting people, and when she did, she couldn't understand or care. With the opening of her heart, that changed. There was clearly a downside to feeling. She cast her mind about for some kind of crutch or shield. Something to hide behind.

"Robin's chess set." Robin had given her the set for Christmas while Beast Boy had been on his leave of absence. It had barely been used. She took the case out of her chest, sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. [1]

"I might as well get this over with."

The door to the common room swished open and silence fell as Raven entered the room. Uncomfortably, she shrugged her shoulders, settling her cloak more smoothly over her body.

She silently padded up to Beast Boy, who was deeply engrossed in a comic book, "Classic Comics' _Lord Jim_."

"Chess?" she said, without preamble.

"GAAAHHHHH!" he shouted, startled.

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

"Well, ah," he started out, "I play. The Doom Patrol spent a lot of time on long plane flights. Negative Man taught me to play to pass the time. I'm not very good; I don't have the patience for it."

"Would like to play a game?"

"What?"

She sighed. "It's a simple question, Beast Boy. I'm fresh out of olive branches. Would you like to play a game with me?'

"Um, sure."

Together they set up the board, Raven electing to play, big surprise: black. The game was short, but quiet. They played to a stalemate with a nearly bare board.

They sat for a moment, looking at the almost empty grid. "Beast Boy. . . um. I misunderstood what you were doing. I thought you were setting me up for a joke. Even if I had gotten the right message, I still shouldn't have been so hard on you. I'm . . . really sorry. Please try to keep in mind that I have the emotional experience of a three-year-old. This is all new to me, and it's harder than it looks."

"Um, sure, Raven."

"My name is . . . " she started. There is was AGAIN. Her full name.

"I . . . need to be alone. Friends? "

"Always," he said.

The team watched as Raven left the room, never so much as putting down her hood.

"That was . . . unexpected," said Robin.

"You're telling me," said Changeling.

Raven had always been good at thinking. So she thought, and thought some more. She wasn't attracted to Beast Boy. She never had been. He was short, goofy, lazy, and kind of funny looking. But he was also very kind, gentle, and very loyal. When he'd been gone, she'd missed him a great deal, and had learned that he was her bridge to the rest of the team. Without him, she became isolated and alone. Besides, even though Aqualad had said he was going to call, she hadn't heard from him. Since the weekend was already here, he was probably on a mission and unable to reach her. Might as well use the time constructively. And she was over-due for a little team-building/friendship repair. Several days later, after a great deal of more thought, Raven girded herself in her battle-gear, mostly for confidence, and headed toward the common room. Opening the door, she approached Beast Boy and retreated even more deeply into her hood. "So, was your offer to take me out somewhere still open?"

"Huh?"

Raven winced, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Starfire would say that I am "engaging the woman's prerogative of the changing of her mind.' If you are still willing to take me on a date, I'm willing to try it."

"I don't get it. First you blow up at me for no reason, then you won't talk me for three days, then you want to play games with me out of nowhere, and _now_ you want to go on a date?"

"Tomorrow night, then?" She said, mostly wanting to get it over with.

"Ah, sure," he said.

Raven turned and quickly left the room.

"So," asked Cyborg, "Where are you going to take her on your big date?"

"What?"

"I said, 'where are you planning to take her?'"

"Aw man, I never thought that far ahead. I never thought she'd say 'yes!' I guess I could take her to the arcade, or the pizza joint, or maybe to the moped show I saw in town."

Starfire made a face.

Cyborg spoke, "You know BB, those are all things YOU like to do. Maybe you should consider taking her to do things SHE likes to do."

"But all she likes to do is meditate, read, and yell at me. None of that sounds like any fun."

Starfire walked over to a computer terminal and called up a web site.

"Friend Changeling – This is the web site for the _Jump City Jump-Up_, a newspaper of all of the happenings of the social kind and entertainments of the alternative kind. Perhaps there will be something here you can do together with friend Raven."

"Thanks, Star," he said, as he began to scan through the list of cultural offerings, muttering to himself.

The next morning, Raven woke to a sharp banging on her door. Normally an early riser, she'd been up quite late the night before trying to quiet her agitated mind.

"Raven – wake up!"

It was Starfire. Raven went and opened the door a crack. "What?"

Starfire jerked the sliding door open and jerked Raven into the hall.

"It is late. We must hurry and get you ready to go out. We must visit the mall of shopping, and it opens in only an hour!"

"Star, I don't want to go to the mall," Raven said as she was flung into the bathroom.

Starfire made a tsk-tsk noise as she locked the door. "I happen to know that you own no clothing but your fighting clothes and those few items I have gifted you over the years. You wear a leotard and a light cloak in the summer. In the winter you wear add leggings over your leotard, and wear a wool cloak. You do not have the right clothes for the dating."

"I don't need special clothes," Starfire. "It would be like trying to have a secret identity. I'm GRAY. Everybody's going to know who I am. I doesn't matter what I wear."

"For a girl who is so very intelligent, you are remarkably dense about some things. Perhaps it would help if you were aware that Changeling has already purchased the 'civilian clothes' for your date tonight. In fact, he spent a good deal of time and effort to look his best."

"He got special clothes? Okay – um, well, maybe I could just borrow something of yours. I mean, you own stuff that's not pink or yellow, right?"

Starfire's eyebrow twitched, and she turned to face the bathroom mirror. Raven looked at her reflection next to Starfire's. Starfire was almost a foot taller than her, her skin was orange gold, she out-weighed her by twenty pounds, and two cup sizes.

Raven ground her teeth. "Okay – lemme get a shower."

That night, Raven showered AGAIN. Who would have thought she'd sweat so much at the mall? Starfire had dragged her to every boutique in the place. She'd expected Starfire to try to coat her in pink and gold, like herself, or perhaps fuscia or yellow or something, but she's shown a surprising amount of restraint. Still, after a couple of hours of arguing with Raven, she took her to a large boutique in one wing of the mall.

"The name of this store is Stylistica. They do not have a sales staff. They specialize in 'style consulting.' Since I seem to be unable to help you with your look, perhaps you will listen to one of them."

The store was unusual to say the least. A vast hodgepodge of clothing, accessories, and décor, it was hard to say that it had any style of its own. They appeared to carry everything from mink coats to "Daisy Duke" shorts and in between. A matronly woman approached them.

"Starfire," she said, "It's been too long!"

The women exchanged air kisses.

"Hello Nora. This is my friend Raven. She needs a style consultant, and doesn't like to listen to me."

Raven frowned as the woman looked her up and down.

"Hmmm . . . ." said Nora. "Let me guess: poor relationship with parents, few childhood friends, and a preference for living with a book in your hand?"

Raven stared. "How . . ."

"The way you dress. The way you stand. Not merely your posture but how you hold your head, your hands, and place your feet fairly scream 'don't look at me'. Don't worry dear, we have a specialist." Nora looked back over at Starfire. "I'm going to give her to Jane. Jane won't be overwhelmed by working with a celebrity."

Shortly they were joined by a girl with shoulder length red hair, rimless glasses, and a smiling face utterly plastered with freckles. "Hi, I'm Jane, your style consultant. Our first step is going to be getting your basic measurements."

Raven said, "I really have no idea."

"Oh, that's okay," replied Jane frankly, "I'd have to take them anyway. All clients lie."

Raven had been expecting a bust-hips-waist exam, but this went way beyond anything like that. By the time it was over, she was glad that Jane had warm hands and a professional demeanor.

"All right," said Jane frankly, "It's clear from your defensive body posture that you're here under protest, and not the least bit interested in a full makeover. So what's the special event you need to step out of your comfort zone for?"

Raven looked down at herself. Knees together, arms tightly folded, she stood with her shoulders slightly hunched. Trying to relax, she lowered her arms and opened her mouth, but Starfire burst in, "Raven has the First Date with Changeling!" she said, hopping up and down on one foot.

"First date? First date with your companion or first date at all?"

"Both, kinda" said Raven, flatly, "My _actual_ first date didn't really happen. But he's not a 'companion' like that. He's a friend, and I'm letting him take me out because . . . I guess . . . I was very . . . unfair to him."

"Do you have any idea what you're going to be doing?"

"No – I'd say he wanted to surprise me, but more likely he doesn't have any plans. He's not exactly a planner."

"All right then, if he's given us no help, we're on our own."

And then Jane went to work. Raven was astonished. The girl was able to produce from the apparent chaos around them option after option for Raven that were "her." Skirts, pants, tops, vests, shorts, and even dresses were produced in a dizzying array. Some were sexy, some were professional, and some were even elegant, but all suited Raven's personality and while she wasn't comfortable in anything but her leotard and cloak, she could at least picture herself in any of the outfits. Her commentary on Raven's looks was frank, but not unkind and her criticism both kind and useful.

"Raven," she said, after hearing a disparaging remark about the color of her skin, "You're focusing on all the wrong things. Hold out your arm. "

Jane stretched out her arm next to Raven's.

"You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

"Your supernaturally flawless complexion. _Look_ girl; don't just see what you're expecting to see. Not a zit. Not a wrinkle. Not a freckle. No big pores. Any hair you've got is so fine it's almost invisible. In short – not a blemish of _any kind._ Nobody has skin so lovely. Most women would cheerfully cut throats to get skin like yours."

"Right," said Raven, disbelieving.

"And that brings us to makeup."

"I don't wear makeup. I've let Starfire make me over twice, and I always look like a kewpie doll dressed up like a streetwalker."

"That's because you don't have your own makeup. Starfire's complexion is orange/gold. You need makeup for _your_ skin tone."

"They don't make makeup for grey skin."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Do I tell you how to save cities?" replied Jane. "True, ten or fifteen years ago you would have been out of luck. Today we have the Goth movement, zombie-chic, vampire-chic, and, of course, the anti-tanning movement. Trust me; we have makeup to suit grey skin."

Without hesitation she dragged Raven over to a small makeup counter that was disturbingly well stocked.

"For starters, you can skip the base. That's normally used by women who need to even out skin tones to produce a smooth, clear starting point. You appear to have been born with one of those. Blush, on the other hand, is going to be critical. I presume you bleed red?"

Nonplussed, Raven replied, "Ah, sure, yes."

"Okay, so when you blush, your grey skin is going to turn maroon, not red, like mine. So you need to start with this maroon blush to bring just a little color to your cheeks. And you have to have a very, very light touch or you _will_ end up looking like a streetwalker. Now . . . about eye shadow and those purple eyes . . ."

Jane then proceeded to demonstrate to Raven how she could modify her "look" to suit different occasions with just a few simple changes. With a few strokes of eye shadow, her eyes could look "sultry" or "smoky." Different shades could make them larger, and more innocent, or smaller, darker, and more mysterious.

Eventually a small selection of "civilian clothes" that would suit most social occasions was selected, together with a basic set of makeup and a few other accessories.

"Okay," said Raven, "What's the damage?"

Jane named a price that made Raven's hair stand on end. Literally. It also blew a couple of light bulbs in the makeup mirror and cracked one of the ceiling tiles.

"I can't afford that," she said.

"You shall not afford it," said Starfire, "we shall be doing the putting of this on my tab."

The subject of Money was a little strange in Titan Tower. The City provided a credit account at a nearby supermarket for their daily food needs, and each Titan got a small spending allowance. The Tower itself was apparently paid for by Cyborg's dad's estate. Now passed away, apparently Doctor Stone had held many patents, and had set up a significant trust fund for his son. So Cy never needed to worry about where car parts were going to come from. Likewise, Robin seemed to have an unlimited amount of cash whenever he needed it, or deemed the Titans needed a resource. Nobody seemed to know where it came from. Beast Boy had always squandered his spending allotment, and was perpetually broke. Raven, thinking that'd she'd literally had no future had blown most of her spending money on antique books. But nobody seemed to know where Starfire's limitless wardrobe budget came from.

"Starfire, I can't accept this. It's too much."

"Yes, you can."

"Where are you going to get that kind of money?"

She looked at Raven as though she was being _very_ dense. "Princess of the Royal House of Tameran? Duh."

"Right – sorry. I keep forgetting that."

Raven and Starfire returned to the Tower. Raven insisted that they quietly smuggle her purchases into her room without any of the boys seeing them. Raven hung tomorrow's outfit on a hook by the door. It_ was_ a very pretty little outfit. She looked into the mirror over her dresser.

"I still don't get it," she thought. "I look like a dead body in a clown wig. But . . . I guess it wouldn't hurt to try to look a little . . . better."

Earlier that day, after the Girls left for the mall, Changeling tried to distract himself by playing video games. As he sat there, a large shadow fell across the couch. He looked up to see Cyborg towering over him, hand on his hips, and with a stern expression on his face. Behind him stood Robin, also looking very serious, arms folded over his chest.

"Changeling," he said, "We need to talk."

"Um, ok? Is, um, now good for you guys?"

Cyborg continued, flatly. "Since my parents died, I've had no family. Raven is the little sister I never had."

Robin added, "She's real important to me, too. And, Changeling, since you got back, heck, before you left, a lot of girls came through those doors on your arm."

"And a lot of them went through your bedroom door, too," added Cyborg.

"Dudes, I . . . ."

Robin held up a hand. "In all this time, neither one of us has seen you treat a woman with anything less than respect and dignity."

"What we've come to say is," Cyborg put in, "Now is NOT the time for you to decide to change that."

"Why didn't Robin get the 'big brother' treatment when he started dating Starfire?"

"Because Raven is fragile. Rob could tie Starfire's feelings in a knot, and it would just piss her off. Same for Bumblebee or Jinx. But you saw what happened to Raven when she just _thought_ you were mocking her."

Cyborg relaxed, deflating. "Just be good to her BB. She's gotten no breaks at all in her entire life."

Changeling muttered as they walked away, "Don't talk to me. Talk to Fish-lips."

* * *

[1] The chess scene is inspired by a similar one in Gwahir10's wonderful story, "Deadpan Love," which I would link out to if fanfiction dot net would quit stripping out my links.


	20. You've Been Waiting For It: First Date

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

LottyPL - Sorry to keep you waiting. I finished up last night, and then made it almost to lunchtime without remembering to actually upload my copy.

Hairul – There will be more of the manning up. Some will work directly toward his goals. Others will only be effective in the longer term.

Shugokage – Thanks. He's going to go the all-out "I am a mature adult" route. She already knows he can be lighthearted and fun. She needs to see other sides of him.

Dizzy – Don't mean to be dragging you guys over the same territory again. But Raven has convinced herself that she would have done the same thing for anyone on the team, and that Changeling would have taken those bullets for anyone either. She's going to have to be forced to face that what they feel for each other is something special. Because she really, really doesn't want to face it. Anyone care to guess why? And yeah, there will be some steamy moments coming up soon. But I'm not sure ya'll will like them.

Sharpclaws – I had a LOT of fun writing Starfire for that chapter. On down the road there's a really awesome scene for Cyborg as well. It's set in the cargo bay of a large aircraft, high over the Mojave Desert. But I'm getting ahead of myself. And yeah, the upcoming date's gonna be a lot of fun for everyone involved. I've resisted taking Raven to Nevermore because either Valor, Knowledge, Passion, and Love will just lay it all out for her (and what fun would that be), or I'm stuck writing Knowledge and Wisdom speaking in mysterious hints because she has to figure it out for herself. And that's already been done, and I don't think I could bring anything new to it. But I'll think about it.

TheLuckyShot – Starfire's fractured syntax just rolled off my fingertips that chapter. It came out so easy I had to dial it back. She just spoke for herself.

TitanLover3353 – Thanks. It's really gratifying to hear that. I think I've got a pretty good grip on where Raven is now. It's moving her forward while keeping her in character that's going to be the challenge.

Jazzybizzle – Thanks. Update tomorrow. But then, if you're reading this, you already know it's gone out!

Omeganian – What story was it in? Let me know and I'll credit your idea in the text. But yeah, given her self-image and her picture of him, I couldn't see her responding in any other way at this point in their friendship.

Egg1 – Keep in mind the goals that Rita and Cyborg have set for him. He needs to convince Raven's emotional, impulsive side that he's a man to be desired, not a boy to be put up with. So expect him to go upscale. And yeah, on that particular line, I could hear his voice in my head.

TripletheCheese – I don't mean to recycle too much material. All you should really see are a couple of scenes from "Raven's Wedding." There shouldn't be anything in here from "Behind Robin's Mask," "What's A Hero, Anyway," "Love in the Library," or, God forbid, "Extreme Sanction."

More hints ahead – Today, I wrote during my lunch break, and was force to leave Raven and Changeling in a crippled aircraft, spinning out of control, over northern Siberia. Later, I had to leave Raven partially frozen in a snowbank. I got them back out, but this is a really exciting job.

Please note that the mugging scene was inspired by Gwaihir10's wonderful short story – "Deadpan Love." If anybody spots story concepts that I have borrowed and not tagged, please let me know. I'm lazy, not a thief.

That evening Changeling paced the common room of Titan Tower in a dark grey woolen suit with a subtly patterned emerald green tie that matched his eyes. His shirt was a deep oxblood made of silk and the cut of the suit was up to the minute, the fit nothing short of perfect. Silver cufflinks glittered at his wrists. Black loafers at a high polish completed his look. Then the door whooshed open.

Silence reigned. Raven was dressed in a midnight blue silk dress with spaghetti straps over her shoulders. Her bodice plunged down _just _low enough to utterly mesmerize a teenage boy, but not _nearly _low enough to holler "HEY! I've got hooters!" The waist nipped in tight above her hips to show her figure to advantage. Changeling's eyes traveled down. Stockings or hose darkened Raven's elegant legs, to end with low, strappy heels. Well, low for Starfire. For Raven, they were the highest heels she'd ever worn, and if you watched closely as she moved, you could tell she was having a little trouble walking. But only a little. She clutched a small beaded bag in one hand. A black lace shawl was draped around her back, over her arms to complete the look. The grey skin of her cheeks flushed maroon as she dropped her head, embarrassed.

"What?" she said. Normally her hair would have hidden her face, but it had been pulled back and to one side with an onyx black clip in the shape of a raven's head. It blended in with her dark purple hair, and was only noticeable when the light glittered on it. She wrapped the thin shawl about her shoulders.

The boys just gaped. Starfire rolled her eyes.

"You look glorious," Starfire said. "I'm sure the boys will tell you so when they get their brains back from wherever you have sent them."

"Star's right," said Changeling, stepping forward. "You look great. C'mon, we don't want to miss our reservations."

Raven cocked her head at Changeling when they got to the garage.

"Your moped?" she asked. "I thought we'd be flying."

Changeling smiled. "No, I don't think so. I sold the moped, and if you've been nice enough to let me take you out on the town, I'm certainly not going to drag you through the sky and make you hold your skirt down in the wind."

Somehow, without running past her, he'd managed to get the passenger door of the T-car open for her.

"I can open my own doors, you know," she said. But her voice was missing its normal sarcastic bite.

"Not," Changeling replied, "On a date with me."

He shut the door firmly after she swung her legs inboard.

"Buckle up," he smiled, as he dropped the T-car into gear and hit the garage door opener. They accelerated sharply up the ramp just as the concealed bridge that linked Titan Island to the city rose up from the bottom of the bay, shedding water in golden sheets that reflected the early evening sun. Changeling settled back into the driver's seat as they approached the suspension bridge that crossed the bay leading out of the City proper.

"Cyborg is letting you drive the T-Car? Unsupervised?"

He grinned, "It only took a little blackmail. Hardly any at all, really."

"Where are we going?" asked Raven.

"It's a surprise. I had to play the celebrity card to get a table on short notice, but they were surprisingly polite when I explained the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"That I'm green, a goof-ball, and am on my first date with a pretty girl, and want to make a good impression."

"It's a little late for first impressions, isn't it? I've known you for years," she replied.

"He thinks I'm pretty?" she thought.

"Never too late for new beginnings," he said, and turned on the stereo.

_Some day, when I'm awfully low,  
When the world is cold,  
I will feel a glow just thinking of you...  
And the way you look tonight._

Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm  
And your cheeks so soft,  
There is nothing for me but to love you,  
And the way you look tonight.

With each word your tenderness grows,  
Tearing my fear apart...  
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,  
It touches my foolish heart.

"Who's that?" Raven asked.

"That, Raven," replied Beast Boy as he maneuvered the car farther from the City, "Is the Chairman of the Board."

Streetlights began to come on as the custom car rolled along the coastal highway.

"Donald Trump?"

"Frank Sinatra! You really _aren't_ from this dimension, are you?

Raven colored, blushing maroon again. "I . . . haven't spent as much time in . . . popular culture as Starfire."

"And yet you speak English so much better than she does. What's up with that?"

"I think Starfire would tell you that it's because she learned English so fast from Robin. But if you ask me, I think she's brighter than she lets on, and she has the 'naïve alien' act as a cover for when she's embarrassed. I didn't mangle syntax nearly as badly as she does when I first got here."

"How long have you been here, anyway?"

"I came to Earth the same year I joined the Titans. I landed in Gotham City and was there for a few months before I moved to Jump."

"Really. I would have thought Gotham was right up your alley," he said.

"Right. Because I'm so bleak and cheerless?"

"Man, you're touchy. Let's just say that your fondness for sunshine and the beach are well known, and there's not much of either of those in Gotham."

"The truth is, I got thrown out of Gotham. Sorta."

"Thrown out?"

"Not really. I went to the Justice League to try to talk them into trying to oppose Trigon. Zatanna could sense Trigon's evil in me, and told them not to trust me. I couldn't stay in Gotham with Batman tracking me all the time. I kept expecting him to . . . land on me or something."

Changeling's fists tightened on the steering wheel and he shifted in his seat.

"He cares," she thought.

"Hey, it's not like he said I was unwelcome," she continued. "I could have stayed. But I could always feel his eyes on me after that. Same for Superman in Metropolis. I came to Jump mostly because there was no Justice League presence here. I felt less . . . watched."

"I'm still not happy with Batman. I can't imagine anyone 'running you out of town' like some kind of desperado."

She looked away, into the night. "They had information the Titans didn't."

Changeling snorted again, then changed the subject. "So. . . you didn't speak any English when you came here?"

She looked back, surprised at the change of subject. "No, I didn't. Why?"

He gave her a big, toothy grin. "I'm just having trouble picturing you as the 'naïve alien,' that's all."

It was her turn to snort. "My 'naïve alien' was a _lot_ different than Starfire's."

He chuckled. "I can imagine."

The car slowed, then turned up a well-kept gravel road lined with young oak trees. Raven began to feel slightly . . . nervous? NO. This was Beast Boy. He'd never try to hurt her. Besides, she was Raven, and well able to take care of herself. Still . . .

"Okay, enough suspense. Where are we?"

"What's the matter, Mystery Girl? Can dish it out, but can't take it? It's okay. We're there."

The T-car came to a stop in front of a large Edwardian house, all brick and stone, with multiple chimneys at each end and in the middle. The roof was slate, the parking lot manicured gravel, and there was a formal walking garden and greenhouse at one end of the building. The valet parking podium stood near the steps to the large, gothic mansion. By the door was a subtle sign reading, _Le Maison Anglais. _

"The English House," Raven said. "I've heard about this place. I thought it was funny to have an English restaurant named in French."

"Oh, it's not an English restaurant. It's French. Well, Continental, anyway. The Chef is Gareth Blackstock, and he moved his operation over here from England after he became too successful and the taxes got too big. He's world famous, and has two Michelin stars. Best of all, he can accommodate vegetarians on his regular menu! He can apparently do things with tofu and saitan that are unbelievable." He tossed the keys to the T-car to the red-jacketed valet.

Raven was startled. "Continental dining?" she thought. "Michelin Stars? Suits? Ties? Who _is_ the guy and what's he done with Beast Boy?"

"Beast Boy," she said, "this looks awfully expensive."

"Changeling. And not really. I wouldn't want to try to live like this all the time, but for tonight its fine."

They approached the maître'd's podium.

"Changeling and Raven," said Changeling.

The maître'd looked them up and down, pausing at Raven's purple hair and Changeling's skin color. He consulted his book with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, sir. You have no reservation."

Now it was Changeling's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Look again. I confirmed this afternoon."

"I'm sure. Sir." Said the maître'd, flaring a nostril.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the little anteroom _changed._ Without moving a muscle, changing his face, or raising his voice, Changeling had suddenly became _dangerous._ The officious host looked down again.

"I do have a 'Logan – party of two,' couldthatpossiblybeyousir?" he said, very quickly.

"Why yes, in fact, that is me. Thank you. Oh – and it's _not_ the tiny two-top right by the kitchen."

"Of course not sir."

They were led through the myriad of tiny dining rooms that made up _Le Maison Anglais. _

_"_How did you _do_ that?" Raven hissed as they walked.

"What?" he whispered back.

"Get so . . . intimidating?"

"I dunno. Over the past year or so, people have been able to tell when they were about one step from a butt-kicking."

The maître'd led them to a small table in a room with about five other tables.

"You'd get violent over a restaurant reservation?" she asked, more than a little surprised.

"Of course not," he said. "I was just about to yell for his boss."

Raven snorted, and then looked around the dining room. Classic modern furniture rested on a rich oriental rug. The room was paneled in dark figured wood and lit by a crystal chandelier. Piano music could softly be heard floating in through one door. Their table was by the window, which looked out onto a softly lit formal garden. As they crossed the room, conversation faltered.

Their guide removed a small card that said "Reserved – Logan" and said, "Your waiter will be with you momentarily."

Raven looked around the room and then out the window. "I knew this was a mistake. They're staring."

Changeling glanced around. Most of the diners had gone back to their meals, but the occasional sidelong glance and whisper told him that she was right; they were the center of attention.

"I guess growing up emerald green I'm used to it."

"Well – I'm not. I _know_ I'm a freak, so I wear a hood and stay in the shadows." Her voice rose. "I can't believe I let Starfire talk me into dressing like this. Take me home."

"Aw, c'mon Raven, give it a chance. It's a nice place, and you look great."

Raven glanced at the other diners again. "Ok. I guess. And . . . thanks."

Raven looked down at her grey hands in the candle light, and spread her shawl, covering her shoulders and arms. Then she took the raven clip from her hair, letting it cover the side of her face that was toward the other diners. The waiter came and took their order, and they struggled through a salad and appetizer, but Raven just become more and more tense. She looked up sharply, catching the eye of a woman across the room, who, startled, dropped her fork with a clatter.

"I can't DO this. I won't have people staring at me like I'm an animal in a zoo. Take me home."

Just then, a figure appeared beside the table. He was a tall, black man, heavily built, but not fat. His hair was cropped closely. He wore the traditional white linen work suit of a professional chef, his tall hat making him seem enormous.

"Good evening Miss Raven, Mister Changeling." His voice had a cultured British accent. He towered over the dining couple. "My name is Gareth Blackstock, and this is my house. It is not my custom to leave the kitchen to my menials, but when I was told who had honored us, I came out to see if they were telling the truth. Tell me, is your dining experience all you expected?"

"I want to go home."

Blackstock froze. His eyes widened, but otherwise his face turned to stone.

"You wish to leave _my table _before dessert. Is there some problem with the appetizer? The salad? I know: the moron, that is, the server was rude. He'll be sacked immediately."

"It's nothing like that," she said.

Changeling broke in, "Raven's uncomfortable being out in public because of the color of her skin. She thinks people are staring at her because she's different."

Blackstock raised an eyebrow and leaned over to rest his hands on the table. His ebony hands stood out starkly against the white linen tablecloth. He spoke firmly. "No one who has problems with the color of someone's skin dines at _Le Maison Anglais. _I do not need the business of such people. Miss Raven, why do you suppose I came out of my kitchen to speak with you tonight?"

Raven shrugged, unspeaking.

"I do not leave my kitchen. I do not 'mingle with my diners.' I am obsessive about the food, and only the food. But not too many years ago, the maniacs the press called 'Thunder and Lightning' created some sort of lava monster that was perambulating towards the City. And its path led right through this spot. The Titans, including you, showed up and stopped it. I am an immigrant to this country. _Le Maison Anglais_ took everything I had to move here and open it. Without you, there would be no restaurant, and I would be nothing but a menial in someone else's kitchen, chopping carrots for the salad bar. I have rudely intruded on your evening to tell you these things so that you will understand why your money is no good here, and why you will not be permitted to leave without hospitality. You will be moved to the private dining room immediately."

"Excuse me," said the waiter. "It is the policy at _Le Maison Anglais_ that house staff do not interact with patrons. But since Chef has chosen to do so, you would like you to know that my daughter was on the Jump Gate Bridge when Killer Moth attacked it. Her mother is dead, and she is all I have left of her. Thank you; she is my world, and I don't know what I would have done without her."

An older patron rose from his table. "Miss Raven. You probably don't remember me, but you were there when I found that poor young lady in the park. She was lying there, in a pool of her own blood. I tried to help her, and that's when the policeman found me, kneeling over a dead body, and covered in her blood. I was going to jail, maybe forever. Then you stepped out of the darkness and into the light, and explained to the cop that you'd been tracking a creature that night, and the trail led to the body, and beyond. You saved more than just my life."

Raven looked at him, "It was nothing, really . . . "

The grey-haired gentleman frowned and interrupted her sharply. "Only my life, my freedom, and my sacred honor. Young lady, don't you _dare_ try to tell me those things are nothing."

"No," said Raven, "O-of course not."

A little girl in a white dress and petticoats, obviously dressed up for a family night out burst from the crowd.

"Raven! It's you! I told mommy is wasn't you 'cause you ALWAYS wear a blue cloak, but she said it was you and it's you. I have a blue cloak! That's a pretty dress! Why don't you wear it when you fight bad guys?"

A short, dark-haired woman quickly stepped forward.

"I'm so sorry. She saw you fighting Mumbo-Jumbo at the bank one time, and has been absolutely fascinated by you ever since. She's determined to grow up to be a Titan. Come on sweetie – Raven needs to eat her dinner too."

The woman walked away, carrying her little girl, who waved frantically back at Raven over her mother's shoulder.

The waiter returned. "The private dining room is ready, sir, miss."

As they rose and headed for the door, quiet applause broke out.

As they were seated, Raven said, "Well, that was . . . unexpected."

Changeling replied, "Boy, you _really_ don't get out much, do you? It happens to me all the time."

"You know how often I leave the tower."

"Raven, they don't stare because you're a freak. They stare because you're a celebrity. And you're a celebrity because you're a _hero._"

"Indeed, Miss Raven," said the waiter, filling water glasses. "The Titans save the city often enough, but one in five of us owes a _personal_ debt to one or more of the Titans. Practically _everyone _knows _someone_ who was saved, rescued, or fought for. Excuse me."

The waiter dashed off, and Raven spoke again, softly.

"The Titans always say nice things to me, and I feel like I'm part of the team, but it's still hard to believe people don't see me as a . . . monster."

"Raven, nobody thinks you're a monster."

"_You_ think I'm creepy."

"I do not."

"You said you did."

Changeling sighed and rubbed his nose. "Years ago, I said something stupid because I thought it was what you expected to hear, and I was desperate for you to listen to me. Funny how my words stuck with you for so long. I didn't know I was that important to you Raven."

"You're not," she snapped. "Sorry – I'm a little tense. This is all really hard."

"It shouldn't be," he replied, smiling gently. "Raven – I have no expectations of you. Try to relax and be Raven."

"Expectations of me? When did he start talking like _that?"_ she wondered.

"So," he said, abruptly changing the subject, "I've never met anybody named Raven before. Where did you get your name? Did you choose it?"

"No," she replied. "Somebody in the monastery at Azarath chose it. Ravens are filthy, ill-omened birds, and carry pestilence and are harbingers of destruction. Given my destiny, it seemed to fit."

Changeling blinked. "Why don't you change it, if you don't like it?"

"It's not a matter of liking it. It's my _name._ I can't change it any more than I can change who I am. And it fits me."

Changeling made a face, and suddenly vanished. In his place, an emerald green raven stood upon the linen table cloth. He beat his wings once, soared over to her red-leather wingback chair, and looked down at her. Making eye contact, he slowly rotated his head around until it was almost upside down. Then he twisted his neck back the other way, until it was almost upside down again. He almost shrugged, and hopped back across the table to his seat. He flickered again, and once again the Changeling sat across from her.

"Ravens," he said, "are also _very_ smart. They mate for life. They're one of the few birds than can mimic human speech. They've got over thirty noises in their normal vocabulary. Even more, they're one of the few animals at all that have been observed making toys to play with. In fact, there's video on the internet of ravens sledding, just for fun."

"Well . . ." she said.

He went on, talking over her. "They show abilities in problem solving that's as good as many monkeys, and have been recorded as tricking wolves and coyotes into hunting for them."

"Where . . . " she said.

Undeterred, Changeling continued, "The Indians of the American northwest revere Raven as both a Trickster and a Creator god. In northeast Asia, the raven god Kutkh is supposed to have created the world."

"Um. . . ."

"The Norse believed that there were two Ravens, Thought and Memory, that serviced their chief god, Odin, bringing him news and information from all the nine worlds. Morrigan the Raven was the battle god of the ancient Irish."

"Beast Boy!" she finally shouted.

". . . and the monks of Azarath were ignorant butt-heads. You wanted to say something?"

"Why do you know so much about ravens?"

"I spent two weeks as a raven while I was away."

She looked at him and arched an eyebrow. "And the flock was discussing Celtic and Norse Mythology?"

He looked her in the eye, his emerald orbs pinning her own. "Or maybe I've been studying ravens since I first joined the Titans."

She colored again, looking away.

The waiter returned with the entrées. When the table was in order and they had privacy again, Raven spoke.

"So what about you? I can't imagine that your parents named you 'Beast Boy.'"

He smiled. "No, no they didn't. But if you don't mind, I'd rather not go into that right now." He reached out and lifted his glass with a gloved hand.

"All right then. But you owe me an answer to a question. How about 'why do you always wear gloves?'"

"Ah," he said, and looked at his hand.

"I got in the habit when I was with the Doom Patrol. Remember, I was still wearing the goofy mask and trying to maintain a secret identity. The gloves were part of that. And, well . . ."

He removed one glove and showed her his right hand. It was human, mostly. But just as you could see his fangs if you looked closely, a close examination of his hands showed dark, forest green claws at the ends of his fingers. He flexed some hidden muscles and they extended then retracted.

"I can't hide my fangs, but covering my claws helps people treat me like a person, and not an animal."

"I can't imagine anyone treating you like an animal. An idiot, yes, but not an animal."

"It happens. For a while, I worked for a master thief who kept me on a leash, with a shock collar."

Raven sat there, unsure what to say. "Uh – how'd you get away?"

"I'm not an animal," he said, "I'm a _man_. Of course, I was only a boy at the time. It took me a while to work up the guts to do it. But I just took the shock collar off. Opposable thumbs. Forebrain."

She smiled. "Who knew?"

He took off the other glove, casting them aside. As he continued to eat, his claws punctuated each movement as he ate clicking on the china, crystal, and flatware.

Chef Blackstock returned to the table shortly thereafter to discuss entrees.

"Actually," said Changeling, "I have a question about the tofu in wine."

Chef Blackstock, slightly distracted and making a note, responded, "Oui? Quelle est votre question sur le tofu dans le vin ?"

To Raven's utter shock, Changeling replied, "Qu'est-ce millésime utilisez-vous dans la sauce de réduction? Je n'aime pas les vins rouges beaucoup."

There followed a rolling conversation in French about the preparation of the "Tofu Au Vin" Changeling had ordered. While Chef Blackstock's French was conducted with a Parisian accent, Raven was unable to place Changeling's. It was deeper, and harsher, with more gutterals and glottals.

After the Chef departed, she asked, "Vous parlez français? Où avez-vous appris à parler français? »

Changeling switched back to English. "All my life," he said. "Or at least since I was about five. I thought you knew."

"I'm pretty sure that _none_ of us does."

"Really? It's not a big deal. Upper Lamumba, where my parents . . . Where my parents were doing their last research project used to be a French colony. Each village had its own dialect, but the common language was French. When I was a little kid we also lived in Algeria, the Congo, and Guiana. Hard to play with the other kids if you don't speak the language. Frenchmen _hate_ my accent, but I try to keep up the grammar from time to time."

She just gaped a little, "I'm just so surprised."

"There's a lot to me you don't know."

"Apparently," she replied.

They talked into the evening, renewing their old acquaintance. They spoke of old battles against old villains now in jail, and pranks and life in the Tower. They speculated about Starfire and Robin's relationship and even talked about the future. Raven had always thought she would like to go to college, but couldn't see how to work it into her responsibilities to the City. Then Changeling surprised her again.

"College? Really? You?" she asked. "But you hate to read, let alone study."

"My parents were very famous zoologists. I've been thinking I might want to follow in their footsteps. Another possibility is vet science. I hate to be a stereotype, but I've got to admit, I like working with animals."

"Do you think you might give up hero-work to do it?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What's the old comic-book saw: 'With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility?' I think the Bible also says 'From those to whom much is given, much is expected.' I'm not sure how I would feel about walking away from protecting the City."

Dessert came, and with it, Chef Gareth, bearing two wineglasses.

"Dude," said Changeling, "We're under-age."

"Don't be absurd. Two glasses of dessert wine is hardly contributing to the delinquency of a pair of Titans. Drink your wine like a civilized human being. Sip slowly – the wine is sauternes – a sweet dessert wine meant to enhance your dessert."

They finished the meal quietly and departed with the abrupt but sincere thanks of Chef Gareth. Changeling pointed the T-car back toward the city, Sinatra again crooning in the background.

"So," asked Raven, "what now?"

"It's a little early to head back in. Clubbing?"

"Ew, no. Crowds of drunken teenagers awash in sweat, hormones, and emotion? No thanks."

"Good point. Walk in the park?"

"Okay."

Changeling parked the T-car in the lot at the City Center Park and the two of them stepped off into the night. As time passed, Raven became more and more comfortable walking the gravel path in her heels, but she could also tell that if they went too far, she might be levitating back to the car.

The park was dark. Tight city budgets and frequent damage by meta-humans left the night time lights in disarray. The two teens moved down the path from one pool of light to the next, heading for the small bridge over the creek.

Now, Tom McKee wasn't really a bad man. He didn't even like to think of himself as a thief. He was a soldier-of-fortune, living by his wits in a society that didn't understand him, and wasn't worthy of his participation. He was just . . . in between fortunes at the moment. (Although his relatives would have said he was in between wits.) Tom pulled the knife out of his pocket and opened the blade as he watched the young couple move from one oasis of light to another. A wallet, and some jewelry, plus a couple of watches would tide him over until his next real opportunity. He stepped to the edge of one of the islands of light and flicked the knife open.[1]

"Okay kids," He said, "Come on out into the light. Just give me your wallets and jewelry and you can go make out in a corner or something."

"What?" said the boy.

"Oh," said the girl in a flat monotone. "I think he's trying to mug us."

"No way," said her companion.

"No, really, I think he is."

"Listen," said the young man to the girl with great sincerity, "I know that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. But we _are_ on a date, and I am the guy. Would you mind if . . ."

His date answered, "Oh, no. Not at all. It's your traditional prerogative. Besides, these heels would really cramp my style."

"What the hell?" thought Tom, "These kids aren't reacting like they ought to. Maybe I . . ."

The young man stepped forward into the light, which glinted off of his forest green hear, green skin, and emerald eyes. More to the point, the air around him had suddenly, inexplicably, begun to feel _dangerous._ Like a hilltop before a lightning strike, or a herd of wildebeests right before a stampede. Tom's eyes widened. Then the girl stepped forward just behind the boy, her eyes glowing an eerie white, and her hands wreathed in a black nimbus of power. You know, just in case he needed backup.

"Crap," he said. "You're Titans. I tried to mug Titans."

Tom may, in fact, have been a bad man. Most people would agree that he was a thief. And he might have not been the brightest bulb in the box, but he was not the kind of stark-staring stupid that takes on two Titans with a switchblade. The knife clattered on the sidewalk as Tom slowly kneeled down and laced his fingers together behind his neck.

"Why," he asked of no one in particular, "do things like this always happen to me?"

Changeling and Raven returned to the Tower in a positively effervescent mood. As they came into the common room, Changeling tossed the car keys to Cyborg, reporting, "Not a ding or a scratch, and I filled the tank. High-test, no ethanol." Raven walked close to Changeling, his arm across her shoulders, her high heels dangling from her hand.

"You sure are in a good mood," said Robin.

"Well, we had a good time," said Changeling.

"Oh, tell us friend Raven, what did you do?" asked Starfire, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"We kept it simple," she said. "Dinner and a walk in the park."

There was a quiet giggle. Everyone looked at Starfire.

"That was not me."

Eyes turn to Raven. "_I_ do _not_ giggle. But it was kind of funny when we got mugged."

"You got mugged," said Robin, rising to his feet.

"It was no big deal," said Changeling. "When he saw who we were, he surrendered immediately."

"Well," said Raven, "I'm dead on my feet."

"I'll see you to your door," said Changeling, and they exited the room.

"Changeling and Raven. Who knew?" said Cyborg.

"I just hope it goes well," said Robin. "If they can't work together, it will hurt the team."

"I think it is wonderful," said Starfire.

Raven and Changeling stopped outside of her door.

"Thanks for giving me a chance," he said, looking into her eyes. "I had a great time."

"So did I," she replied.

"I'll see you in the morning," he winked, squeezed her shoulder, and started to turn away.

Without thinking, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Startled, he froze, eyes wide, for an instant, long enough for her to let go. "Oh, Azar . . ." she swore, and started to turn away into her door, face flaming.

Wait," he said sharply, his hand on her shoulder, his claws sinking into her soft skin, ever so slightly. She stopped.

"Let's try that again, now that my lips are ready for it."

He caught her gently by the shoulder and spun her around to face him again. He carefully cupped her chin in his left hand and lifted her face up to his own. His right hand snaked around to the small of her back. Ever so softly, he pressed his lips to hers. Unbidden, her hands reached up around his neck, shaking slightly. Her knees weakened as she closed her eyes. Her heart raced and her stomach did a little flip-flop. Her first kiss. She was a little old for first kisses to start with, and hers was with Beast Boy. Funny – she didn't seem to mind. The crystal snowflake shattered in its cage. The light bulb blew, and smoke began to rise from the keypad of her sliding door. They separated.

Changeling looked down at her, smiling. "I should go."

She nodded, unspeaking.

"I'm guessing this means you'd be willing to try another date?"

She just nodded again, letting her hands slide from his shoulders and back to her sides. He stepped back.

"Good night, Raven."

"Good night," she whispered, not trusting her voice. She raised her hand and closed the door as he stepped away. Unable to focus her mind sufficiently to light a candle, she turned on a bedside lamp.

"Why did I do that? He was going to go away without . . . anything. And I wouldn't let him." She rubbed her eyes. Edgar Allen Poe had nothing on 'weak and weary.' She reached behind her back to grab the ribbon that would unzip her dress.

* * *

[1] The mugging scene was inspired by Gwaihir10's wonderful short story – "Deadpan Love." Which I would link out to, if fanfiction dot net would quit stripping out my hot links.


	21. And Now Readers Throw Rocks at Author

Author's Notes –

Shout Outs:

Omeganian – Well, it IS a pretty common trope.

dylanbiancamano – I love Chef Blackstock, too. His saving grace is that he's ALMOST as good as he thinks he is. I will accept genius magnificent glorious bastard, even though I can document that my parents were married when I was born. Thanks!

Sergeant Daniel – Yeah. Now comes the grim morning after, and Raven's Buyers Remorse.

JOHNXgambit – So far, anyway.

Dizzy – All things come to she who waits. You're going to want to give me a wedgie after this chapter.

shugokage – "Beast Boy is smarter than he looks" is one of my favorite tropes. I just have to be careful not to make him too smart to be believable.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Meh. His contact hasn't had time to find him his own wheels yet, so he had to borrow the T-car. It's coming up. I think you'll approve.

yumiulrichlovers, LadyFelton1994, Sharpclaws – Man, you guys are SO gonna wanna give me a wedgie after chapter 21.

Egg1 – Yeah. I re-worked that chapter for days, but I think it turned out pretty well. As to who had to start the kiss, well, it's ALWAYS the girl. See, even if he boy goes first, the girl has to make sure he knows she's ready to be kissed. Raven didn't know how to do that, so Changeling had no idea. The he found out she wanted to be kissed. Men are simple creatures. Swear.

Bob – The Maître'd knew EXACTLY who they were. He was trying to run them off with a +2 snob attack. The name was him saving face. I should have made that clearer.

And finally – the author's notes. What can I say? Try and not hate my guts. I'm writing from life, and I'm sure that the guys I've got out there reading me are gonna mostly nod and go, "Uh-huh. Yeah. Been there." This is the biggest, juiciest, stinkiest pile of the guy-side of romance. Since I've been getting complaints about the pacing, you get a bonus. Later today I will post the next chapter. That's right: two chapters in one day, to placate what will, I have no doubt, become an angry mob after you read this one. If you give up on me now, you'll miss the dramatic plane crash, a week trapped in a Siberian cave, near death from hypothermia and the beginnings of Raven's understanding of why she feels what she feels.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

The next morning, Changeling rose early, morphed into a cat, stretched, and then morphed back. Groggily, he stumbled into the bathroom he shared with Raven. He leaned against the sink with both hands, and then looked into the mirror.

"Gah," he said, and turned on the cold water; really, really cold water. He scrubbed his face and peered at it in the mirror. He sniffed his pits, and decided that, having done the "full Monte" before his big date; he could cut a couple of corners and still be ok for the day."

"Oh man," he thought. "The date. That was awesome. I didn't think she'd have that good a time. And I certainly didn't think she was going to _kiss_ me."

Big surprise: Raven was different from other girls. Her body was slightly . . . cool to the touch. He'd touched her hands before of course. You don't work with someone for years and not come into contact. But it had always been brief, and he'd just thought she'd had cold hands. But her whole body, or at least all of that he'd touched, had been cool. Not cold like an icy mountain stream, but cool, like a swimming pool in high summer. Or one of those fizzy water drinks. He'd never kissed a girl whose lips were . . . refreshing before. And she'd tasted . . . like she smelled. English didn't have the words to describe it, and he suspected no other human language did, either. But the young sorceress was . . . spellbinding. And there would be more of that if he had anything to say about it.

"But right now," he thought, "Breakfast."

Changeling's diet had changed since his sojourn in the wilderness. He was no longer a strict vegetarian. For example, this morning, he ate unfertilized free range eggs, organic milk from free range cows, and cheese from the same source. Plus a piece of fruit and some home-friend potatoes (fried in olive oil). With no alerts on the horizon and hours yet before the first training session of the day, he took his time cooking.

Raven also woke early. Normally she would pop awake, brush her teeth, have some tea, and head to the roof for morning meditation, but this morning she was curiously reluctant to leave her room. What would he say when he saw her over the breakfast table? What would he think about their date? Their kiss? She still couldn't believe she'd done that. And why did she try to kiss him? And found his response even harder to believe. He'd grabbed her and spun her around like a doll. He should have been afraid of her, like everyone else. But she couldn't stay in here forever. Starfire or Robin would be down soon if she didn't show for breakfast or training.

She slowly dressed in her usual outfit, but she had a hard time not staring at the dress she'd worn the night before. It sat on the one chair in the room, draped over the back. The low, strappy heels she'd worn casually dropped at the base of the chair.

"It was real. It really happened. No way would I leave wadded up pantyhose on the floor in a dream. Azar! I feel like such a slut. Aqualad and I are practically dating; I didn't have any business going out with Beast Boy in the first place. I certainly didn't have any business kissing him! And besides I'm not that attracted to him, anyway."

There was no putting it off any longer. She took the elevator up from the habitat section to the common room, where the others were already eating. Robin was eating ham and eggs; apparently Cyborg had volunteered to cook. Starfire was eating something pepto-bismol pink that was trying to escape from the bowl as she was eating it. Raven sidled quietly up to the table, waiting for . . . what?

"Teasing, I guess," she thought.

"'Morning, Raven," said Robin.

"Yes," said Starfire, "A glorious morning to you this day," she said, then punched her breakfast back down into the bowl.

"Say Star," asked Cyborg, "Where do you get all of the Tameranian food you fix around here, anyway?"

" ," she replied. "I have the Amazon Prime service, so there is no fee of shipping the one hundred fifty six trillion miles from the Vega sector. Otherwise I could not afford it."

"Amazon prime? A hundred fifty six trillion . . . shipping? boggled Cyborg. "But how . . . never mind, I don't wanna know."

Raven looked over at Beast Boy, who grinned at her briefly, and then focused on his food. This wasn't going to be easy for her.

After breakfast, Raven caught Beast Boy in a quiet corner.

"We need to talk. I . . . think I need to apologize or something. last night. I . . . may have given you the wrong impression."

"Oh?" said Changeling, his heart dropping into his stomach.

"Aqualad and I are kind of dating," she continued, "and well, I went out with you because I'd been so . . . rude. But, I didn't expect to be so swept off my feet. I really didn't have any business kissing you like that."

The younger man didn't bat an eye.

"That's ok."

"It is?"

"Sure. You've had years to tell me how you feel about me; you've made that clear. We had fun but you don't see any future there. That's that." He smiled, grinding his teeth.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You're a really nice guy."

"'Nice', he thought. "Oh crap. The NiceGuy Kiss of Death. The only thing worse would be if she said . . ."

"I cherish your friendship. You're not mad?"

Inside his head, Changeling started slamming his head against the coffee table over and over again. But on the outside . . .

"Nope. Can you hand me the remote?"

An hour later, Changeling slipped out and went down to the gym. Fifteen minutes after that, the heavy bag was in pieces. The shreds of canvas were marked by teeth, fangs, spines, tentacles, and those weird-ass lumpy things on the end of dinosaur tails. Starfire strolled in and stopped, staring at the wreckage with astonishment. Changeling stood in the middle of the debris field, panting, fury expended.

"My goodness," she said. "What has happened?"

Frustrated, angry, and hurt, Changeling sat down in the middle of the chaos and blurted out exactly where he stood.

"Oh," said Starfire, sympathetically as she kneeled beside him. "I am _so _sorry. She really said 'Cherish your friendship?'"

"Uh huh. Rita and Cyborg warned me that it was going to be a hard climb out of the 'friend zone,' but I _really_ didn't understand what I was getting into."

"I fear your timing was poor. The night of the ball Aqualad got in ahead of you. Raven is infatuated."

"I know. I can't break through. They're not technically exclusive yet, but she so. Fucking. Loyal."

"You will one day be grateful for that loyalty."

"Oh, I've been grateful for it already. It's just frustrating when it's . . . ."

"Misplaced," she finished for him.

"You think so?" he asked.

She smiled gently. "Of course Friend Changeling. She will come around."

"Is there anything else I should be doing? I don't think she's going to take me up on another date while she and Fish-lips are 'practically dating.'"

Starfire paused and turned away.

"Well," she said, "Raven is often different from other girls, but if it were me . . ."

"You got something?"

She sighed. "Why do you suppose Robin is so attractive to girls like me?"

Changeling blinked. "Of all the things I've never thought about, that's about the "never-thoughty-est. I have _no_ idea."

"He is, of course, brave, honest, honorable, and kind. He is handsome and strong and has buckets of money. These things are easy to see. And all these things are attractive. And, of course, from the moment I saw him, I thought he was the cute. But the reason women want him, is that _other women want him._ He is the guy all the other girls wanted, and _I got him._" Her eyes glowed green for a moment, and Changeling was able to see that Starfire's feral ancestors had, in fact, been some kind of jungle cat. He'd never seen a woman look so predatory. The image faded, and she continued.

"To raise your value as a mate in her eyes, you must be more attractive not just to her, but to other females as well. You noted her behavior when you were with Fritzi. I believe it was due to the jealousy."

"For Raven to be attracted to me, I have to date other girls? That makes no sense."

"I am sorry. I am not making myself clear. You cannot date Raven now. She is infatuated. Until this runs its course, you will look like a puppy if you continue to follow her around. If a woman wants a puppy, she will buy one."

Changeling turned into a puppy, sat on his haunches, and panted.

"Very funny. I am trying to help you here."

Changeling turned back, grinning. "Sorry."

"As I was saying, you cannot date Raven now. Waiting around for her will make you look like Cyborg says, 'a tool.' So go forth. Open your heart to other girls and have fun. The more girls like and approve of you, the more attractive you will be seen as. It may well be that when Raven is free of her infatuation; you will be involved in another romance of your own. But waiting around will do you more harm than good."

"I . . .see," said Changeling, skeptically.

"One more thing," said Starfire.

"Yeah?"

"I fear that the infatuation with Aqualad must run its course. We have done our best, and she is determined to run into that wall. This will not end well. He is going to hurt her, and pieces of her heart are going to be scattered all over the place. You _must __not_help her pick those up_."_

"What?"

"When Aqualad breaks her heart, you cannot help her. Do not allow her to cry on your shoulder. Do not try to comfort her. That is the job of her friends-that-are-girls. If you do that job, she will think of you as a friend-that-is-a-girl. Let me do that part or it will do the undermining your other efforts. It does not make the sense, but trust me on this. "

"Right," he said, unsure.

It was later that evening after a short but decisive fight with Cinderblock that the Titan's visited the Jump City Hospital Intensive Care Unit (ICU). The program had been Changeling's idea. After each battle downtown, the team would stop at the nearest hospital, rescue unit, or orphanage and just check in with the sick kids. Sort of a community outreach thing. It normally only took a few minutes, and was a good way to wind down as the adrenaline from a fight ran down. Raven had been surprised when Beast Boy made the suggestion. He hated hospitals. It wasn't just the depressing atmosphere. The harsh disinfectants stung his eyes and nose. Just standing in a hospital corridor was painful to him. The team quietly approached the desk.

The light in the hospital was subdued, indicating that they were on the night-cycle. Normally, this was outside of visiting hours, but life in the ICU is a little different. Death lives in the ICU waiting room, so access to the patients is, of necessity, a little more flexible. Before Robin could say anything, the head nurse, practically buried under forms, spoke without looking up. "Thank goodness you're here. He's been calling for you for _hours._" She gestured vaguely over her shoulder. Robin looked at Beast Boy, shrugged, and went on into the ward.

The ICU was a strange place. The walls were a pale grey. The floor was sealed and polished concrete. Rather than have each patient have a private room, the ward was a single, large circular room with a nursing station in the center. Each patient had a small alcove with privacy partitions on the side, but a mere curtain separating them from the nurse's station at the center. While not as private as a single-occupant room, this allowed the nursing staff to observe and respond to monitors and alarms by glancing across a room. Unsure where "he" was, they stopped at the first cubicle.

"I'm so glad you came," said the hospital volunteer in her red and white striped smock. "I've been talking to him, but he won't call down. He keeps calling for his son."

Changeling looked down at the bed. On it was a man. He'd been huge, back in the day, a man-mountain. Now he was wasted and frail. His white hair was cropped short, and mussed from thrashing around on the bed. Tubes emerged from his nose and from beneath the sheets. He wore one of those hospital gowns that seem designed to amputate the human dignity of patients as soon as they are donned. The sheets on the bed were coarse institutional cotton. He was surrounded by monitors. The man muttered and squirmed agitatedly. Raven watched as a pained expression flitted across his face, and then cleared.

He spoke quietly to Robin. "I've got this. You see if anything else is going on."

Raven then watched as Beast Boy sat down beside him. The other three Titans move down the row of beds. "What's wrong with him?" Beast Boy asked the volunteer.

"I'm not sure," the middle-aged woman replied, brushing her iron-grey hair away from her forehead and pushing her black-rimmed glasses up her nose. "I'm just a volunteer. But I think I heard them say its lung cancer. Whatever it is, it's eaten him up. I'm no doctor, but I think he's coming to the end."

Changeling replied, "I know." The young man didn't say anything, but he could smell Death on him. But mostly, he could smell Fear.

"He's been calling for his son for two days. We don't know where he is or how to reach him."

Raven saw Changeling's face harden, and then smooth over. He sat down on the guest chair, grasped the shaking hand firmly and said, "Dad, I'm here."

The old man's kicking and squirming immediately stopped, and his voice murmured something intelligible.

"Don't worry about that, Dad. That can wait. Right now I need you to relax. It's going to be okay."

The patient laid quietly, liquids silently dripping into and out of tubes. The oxygen saturation monitor read 84%. _NOT_ a good number. The heart monitor display was silent, but steady.

"What are you doing?" Raven hissed.

He ignored her.

"Dad, can you hear me?" he said firmly.

The wrinkled hand tightened on his.

"Do you remember the day I was born?"

The wrinkled face smiled, ever so slightly, and then relaxed again.

After about forty five minutes, Robin returned. He spoke quietly.

"There was a little boy on the other side of the ward who had been calling for Changeling," he said. "He wanted to see you turn into a puppy. Fortunately, he was willing to settle for a giant robot.

Cyborg grinned. "I must have popped open ever compartment, gadget, and geegaw in my chassis, but he was smiling when we left. We told him you might see him another day, but you were taking care of a boy who was really sick."

Changeling was uncharacteristically subdued. "Thanks guys. I'm, um, going to stay here tonight."

"You sure?" asked Robin.

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll stay with him," said Raven.

Startled, Changeling looked over at her quizzically.

"Okay then, we'll see you guys tomorrow."

And so it went, on through the night. The old man would become upset, and Changeling would call him "Dad," and ask him questions. He never once opened his eyes or spoke, but would smile and become quiet. Raven never spoke. She just watched silently.

"Remember the time I got stung by that bee?"

"Remember when my first day of school?"

"Remember my first date?"

"Remember my first love?

"Remember the girl who first broke my heart?"

"Remember when I graduated from school?"

"Remember?"

"Remember?"

"Remember?"

It was about three o'clock in the morning when the heart monitor began to slow. Fifty – forty – thirty – and then, suddenly, zero.

There was a sudden but brief flurry of medical personnel, the lead nurse eventually turning to the doctor saying, "Call it."

The doctor, young, tired, and a little frazzled looked at the wall clock. "Three seventeen AM."

The nurse made a note on the chart, then turned to the odd-looking couple. "Take all the time you need. When you are done here, we will move your father's body to the morgue."

"He wasn't my father," said Changeling quietly.

"No? But why . . .?"

"His son obviously couldn't be here. It must have been something utterly vital. But since he couldn't be here, and I could, I was, so I did. What was his name?"

"Benjamin Franklin Davis. He was a contractor. He built homes."

"I . . . see." He dug around in his utility belt and came up with card. "Please ask the family or whoever to notify me of the funeral."

Raven stayed silent as they walked down the corridor leading to the ICU. She was about to open her mouth and speak when Changeling stopped suddenly. Around the corner in front of them stepped a Marine. He was wearing his dress blues. He squared the corner and marched up the corridor, passing them into the ICU. He was followed immediately by a Navy chaplain, also in a Class A uniform. Raven started to speak, and Changeling raised his hand for silence. Raven could only her unintelligible mumbles, but Changeling could obviously hear clearly. The mumbles stopped and Changeling turned away, starting back down the corridor.

"At least," she heard him mutter under his breath, "He had a good reason for not being here."

They walked outside the hospital to the contemplation garden. It was green under the soft night lighting. The living plants waved in the soft breeze, and the scent of flowers filled the air.

Raven spoke once. "Why?"

"I . . . wasn't there when my father died. Or my mother. Because I ran. I wish someone had been there for them, since I wasn't. It's that simple."

"And all those memories?"

"Those things happen in _every_ young man's life. I didn't need to know what the answers were to know he'd have them."

He became an osprey, spread his wings, and lifted into the night. Raven raised her hood, and did the same.

Raven had never been the team chatterbox. But she was noticeably quiet the next day, and on into the night, and during her date with Aqualad. It wasn't until much later, when she slid into the back seat of his rental car that the heat of his hands on her body drove away the questions and thoughts that were haunting her mind. Her pulse thundered in her ears and her hands shook. She ran her fingers through the Atlantian's hair as she pulled his head tightly to her neck, where he began to nibble.

"Ah," she said, sparks shooting through her skin.

"Ah – no, no hickies," she said.

"Aw," he replied, pulling back, "why not?"

"Because," she said, pulling the collar of her leotard back in place, "I don't want to have to explain them."

He grinned, "Maybe I want everyone to know how you feel about me."

She glared at him, "Find a way other than branding me like a cow."

"I'd take that more seriously if you didn't make those gaspy noises when I'm working on your neck," he said grinning as he slid his arm back around her shoulder.

"Shut up," she said with a small smile.

They talked about inconsequential things for a little while there in the back seat, while the stars twinkled outside. His fingernail gently played with the skin of her neck and shoulder. As the conversation progress, his finger traced lower and lower down her neck and onto her chest.

With a sigh, she grabbed his hand affectionately and turned to look him in the eye.

"Please," she said, "I'm . . . not comfortable with that yet."

His black-on-black eyes were unfathomable, but the expression on his face looked like he'd gotten a bad oyster.

"Fine," he said, and with that grace and flexibility common to super-heroes, he bounded into the driver's seat without touching the seatback and started the car.

"Wait," said Raven, urgently, "I didn't mean . . ."

"I'll get you back to Titan Tower. I've got some stuff I need to get done offshore while I'm on the coast anyway."

"But . . ."

Aqualad gunned the engine, drowning out her voice as he laid a deep donut on the beach, turning about and heading up to the Tower. Frustrated, she crossed her arms and settled back into the seat. Pulling up to the Tower front door, he got out and opened the back door for her and walked her silently to the doorway. She looked up at him uncertainly, and closed her eyes.

"Good night," he said, curtly, and gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

Before she could open her eyes, he was pulling away from the door.

"Well, shit," she said, leaning against the doorframe with one hand. "That wasn't what I wanted at all. Maybe I should be a little more . . . flexible."

Upstairs in the operations room Cyborg noted that the elevator sensor indicated that it was coming up to the operations level. The tall black man had carefully considered going down to the beach earlier. The telltales on the submersible bridge that linked Titan Island with Jump City indicated that someone was coming in over two and a half hours ago. It didn't take two hours to get from the bridge to the Tower. Titan Island wasn't that large. And the man who used to be a boy named Victor Stone knew exactly why a man like Aqualad could take two and a half hours to see a girl like Raven to her front door.

Raven entered the operations floor.

"Hey Raven. Everything ok?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Um, yes?"

He looked at her for a silent moment. "OK, then. You know you can talk to me if you ever have a problem, right?"

"Um, sure?"

"Raven, I'm serious. You are Starfire are the sisters I never had. You let me know if you have any . . . . problems."

She smiled at him. "Thanks. But I think I can handle my own . . . problems."

It was not too many days later when the team was summoned to the garage.

Changeling's grinning face appeared on the big screen, "I've got my new car! C'mon down to the garage!"

The screen went blank, and Robin frowned.

"I didn't authorize a car for him," he said, rising.

Cyborg was the first person through the door. He jerked to a halt. His jaw dropped, his human eye bugged out, and then his cybernetic eye extended with a whirr and scanned the vehicle from one end to the other.

"A 1965 Shelby Mustang!?" Cyborg boggled.

The car was a two door with the classic style that had defined how sports coupes would look for a generation. This one had been painted midnight blue and polished to an iridescent luster.

Robin, frowning, said, "I didn't authorize this expense."

Changeling, leaning on a fender, stood upright and frowned back. "I didn't spend your money; there was nothing for you to authorize."

"Oh, well. Cyborg, do you have time off the clock to maintain a classic car?"

Cyborg beamed.

"Cy doesn't have to work on it. I have a maintenance contract with a garage in town."

Cyborg's face fell.

"Unless he wants to."

Cyborg beamed.

"Seems like an awful waste of money," said Raven. "After all, you can fly."

Changeling grinned at her and started ticking points off on his fingers, "For starters, it's not as expensive as it looks. It's a restoration, not cherry. At least half the parts on it aren't stock, so it's not _really_ a collector's item. It just looks like one. Second, normal cars depreciate. New ones are the worst. They lose anywhere from a quarter to a third of the value as soon as you drive them off of the lot. Anyone who tells you a new car is 'an investment' is, well, trying to sell you a new car. Classic cars go UP in value. When I sell it, I should be able to get all of my original investment back out of it. Third, it's for running about, not work. I'll still fly to work. The _last_ thing I need is to drive it to a fight and have _you_ pick it up and throw it at Dr. Light."

Raven's head went back a little at that.

"And finally, it's my money. I'll spend it as I see fit."

Raven arched an eyebrow. "You certainly seem to have thought this through."

Cyborg spoke again, "A 1965 Shelby Mustang!?"

"Dude, you said to find something that was at least third-hand and you'd help me fix it up. It's at least third hand. And it needs a little work. It's got after-market air-conditioning already, but it still needs a good stereo. Can you help me with that?"

Cyborg beamed. "A 1965 Shelby Mustang!"

Robin grumbled again. "I don't know about using this much garage space for a personal project."

Changing turned, walked over to him, looked him dead in the harlequin mask, and asked, "Is this my home?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a simple question. I could understand if I wanted to mess with the security system. Or if I wanted to upload a mess of games to the Tower mainframe. Or attach something to the power grid. Or bring in a group of strangers every week. But if I can't decide to use twenty square feet of garage space without checking in with you, then this isn't my home; it's a dorm I live in. Your call. What's it going to be?"

They stared at each other, eyes to eye-holes for just a moment. Robin blinked.

"Sorry. Channeling Batman, I guess. Nice car."

"Thanks."


	22. Bare in a Cave Or Bear In A Cave

Author's Notes –

Shout Outs:

. – YEAAAAH. That was about the response I expected. Sorry. Feel the burn. And no, I've watched Harry Dresden and Karen Murphy play the "one of us is in a relationship" cycle right up until he had himself whacked. There are complications yet to be seen. But I'm not going to do THAT to them. Or to you.

Omeganian – Snopes? Why? Did I fold in an urban legend? Didn't do it on purpose.

Hairrul the Nightrage Beast – As much as Cy would love to trick that 'Stang out, Gar won't have it. He wants to keep it as close to "restored/stock" as he can. He's a traditional sort of guy. Except for the paint job. Although at some point he will have it detailed.

Shugokage – Yup. Rob came to work with Bats at a very young age, and you can really see the influence.

JOHNXGambit – Oh, no kidding. Frankly the boxing metaphor works so well for dating I may work it into a shorter piece later on. Nice-guy jab, then Friendzoned-punched for the knockout. And it FEELS like that, too, don't it guys.

Aqua Rules – You get the no-prize prize for being the first one to publicly applaud the decision. The reviews have actually been less negative than I expected.

Notes: You guys weren't NEARLY as cranked as I expected when Raven friend-zoned-punched Changeling in the gut in the previous chapter. Never-the-less, I promised a second chapter today, much more romantic than the last. Break out the popcorn. Changeling fans, he's never look more manly, even if he does spend most of the time wearing fur.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

It was a few days later when Robin walked into the room, a print-out in his hand. "Things have been pretty quiet lately, and we've had a request."

The other four Titans looked up, expectantly. "Red Star has asked for some help."

"Red Star? The Russian hero?"

"He's apparently having trouble with an occult movement in upper Siberia. With his background in the military and nuclear physics, he's equipped to deal with magic-wielding bad guys alone."

Changeling sat quietly while Robin went over the information provided by Red Star.

Raven spoke up. "Let me see those pictures please."

She spent several minutes examining the images.

"The symbolism is from the Circle of the Midnight Death. They were an apocalyptic cult in the late eleventh century. They used a series of ancient rites designed to bring about the end of the world. The last time they showed up, the Knights Templar put them down. Supposedly, all of their people were burned and their books destroyed."

"Well, it looks like somebody missed a chapter or two."

"Somebody's got to do something. I don't think the Templars are up to it this time. I'll take this one. I don't need to pack much. Tell Red Star I can be there in about six hours."

"I don't want you heading into upper Siberia alone. You'll need backup," Robin said.

"I don't need any . . ." Raven started.

"I'm in," said Changeling firmly.

"Okay then," Robin said. "Cyborg can prep two pods of the T-ship. Be ready to up-ship in two hours."

"I don't need any help," Raven hissed as they headed out the door to the habitat level to pack.

"I know," Changeling replied. "But I've never been to Siberia in high winter. I want to see how the animals adapt."

"They don't adapt," she said, "They hibernate!"

But the mission went well, and Changeling's presence proved vital. The data gathered by Red Star was incomplete, as time was short, but Changeling was able to intuit the most likely place to find the cult. They were opening a portal to one of the Outer Planes in an attempt to invite a huge, savage creature into our world, and the heroes go there just short of "too late." Red Star and Raven had put paid to the cultists while Changeling turned into a huge brahma bull and literally "bulled" the creature back through the hell-gate. Raven had had to move quickly to hold the gate open while Changeling turned into a humming bird and flitted back through the shrinking gateway.

It was on the voyage home that problems ensued. They had shaken hands with Red Star and upped-ship in the mid-morning after their climactic battle with the Circle and ran into a heavy storm at high altitude. The T-ship Shards were well designed, but while they were trying to climb above the storm, an epic bolt of lightning struck the mated vessels. No siren blared. No lights flashed. No meters strained. This was far worse. The whole ship was dead. And dropping like a rock and spinning like a top. Each shard of the T-ship had a separate cockpit so that it could split into up to five different Shards when needed but this mean that Raven and Changeling weren't in the same cockpit. Raven sat in her cockpit, belted in tightly. As the ship tumbled, she shouted into the intercom.

"Beast Boy, can you hear me?"

The system was dead. They were going to have to bail out. Fortunately, they could both fly. This might be more problematic if she'd had Robin or Cyborg along. She grabbed a tiny survival kit from its place under the seat and prepared to blast the canopy off with her powers. As she began to summon the dark energy the canopy was suddenly ripped away. Through the wind and the snow she saw a giant green gorilla, standing above her, holding the canopy over its head and gripping the hull of the T-ship with muscular feet. It flung the canopy far out into the night.

"I'm going to jump," she shouted. "Can you follow me?"

Changeling nodded and growled.

Raven smacked the quick-release on her five point harness and was immediately thrown into the wind. Changeling shifted into a storm petrel and flashed after her. Raven quickly righted herself and began to slow her fall with levitation, but immediately ran into two problems. The T-ship had fallen into cold weather, and the storm was now blowing snow and sleet. She could barely see and was quickly coated in ice. The tiny woman knew that if she didn't get to shelter fast, her body mass wasn't going to hold enough body heat to keep her alive, especially in these sub-zero winds. Worse, while she was a powerful flyer in still air, the same small body mass allowed the wind to whip her hither and yon. The green storm petrel clawed at the air beside her as she continued to slow her descent.

"We've got to get out of this wind, fast," shouted Raven.

The storm petrel cried out in agreement.

"I can't tell how high up we are. We were falling for a while. Can you?" She yelled again to be heard over the storm.

Changeling shook his head yes, and darted downward. Raven followed. Very soon the ground loomed up out of the white storm, and Raven's feet touched the ground. Changeling flashed into his human form.

Raven's teeth chattered as she tried to speak.

"Save your breath, Raven," said Changeling, his own breath visible as steam in the frozen air. "Talking is only going to make you colder. He pointed off to his right, "Start walking in that direction. Keep in as straight a line as you can. I'm going to scout for shelter. When I find something, I'll come for you and guide you there. But you've got to keep moving or you'll freeze."

Raven nodded, and Changeling morphed into the form of a winter wolf (green, of course), and bounded out into the darkness. "I hope he knows what he's doing," Raven thought as she began to trudge through the snow. She wrapped her cloak around her as tightly as she could, and pulled her hood down as far as it would go without blocking her vision. She periodically checked behind herself to try to keep her tracks in a straight line, but with the rapidly falling Siberian snow, the wind, and her own exhaustion, it was hard to tell which way she was going. She shivered violently and missed her footing, falling into a snowbank.

"He's really very nice, you know."

Raven sat up, suddenly, looking around the snowbank.

"Who was that?"

There was no answer.

Another, similar voice spoke, "You really should get moving."

Raven spun.

"Oh, c'mon, you know who we are."

A green-cloaked Raven emerged from the darkness around her.

"My emotions should not be out here."

Another one, this one cloaked in yellow and wearing glasses, stepped forward. "We're not. C'mon Raven, we're not really here. You're delusional. And it's because we're freezing to death. Beast Boy is _going_ to find shelter, and he's _going_ to come for us. But it's up to _us_ to be alive when he comes back. Look at you. You've stopped shivering. That's bad Raven. Really bad."

"I – I don't think I can stand."

The one in green, Brave, said, "When you can't run, you walk. When you can't walk . . ."

"You crawl," said Raven, who rolled onto her knees and began to crawl across the snow.

The voices vanished as Raven struggled through the storm.

It was some time later that she realized that she could no longer feel her lower legs, or her arms below her elbows. But it wasn't as cold as she expected it would be, in a Siberian snowstorm in high winter. In fact, she felt like she was warming up. Somewhere, at a great distance, she heard the voice of her intellect, Knowledge shouting something about one of the last signs of freezing to death and staying awake, but she just needed to rest her eyes for a moment.

An ill-defined interlude later Raven was moving again. She swayed gently from side to side, the wind occasionally brushing her face. Eyes closed, she tried to figure out how she had gotten on a boat, but she couldn't remember. Prying her eyes open, she looked up. Above her loomed a dark figure. It was enormous. As it plowed effortlessly through the snow drifts she had struggled so hard to keep moving in, it shifted from side to side. That was what had felt like a boat rocking. Its fur was shaggy, soft, and warm. She closed her eyes again.

"When you can't run, you walk. When you can't walk, you crawl. And when you can't crawl . . . you find someone to carry you."

She had another blackout. A voice was calling her name from very far away. She strained to make it out.

". . . clothes off! They're soaked through and you're freezing to death . . ."

Really. It was too much work to try to make sense of it. She wasn't freezing to death. She felt warm, didn't she? Although she did seem to remember her stupid elf-boots being soaked through. Something about snow. And ice and something. Blackness.

Raven's eyes opened to the grey stone wall of a granite cave. She sat up and the silver survival blanket she was wearing fell down to expose her breasts. Her nipples immediately hardened like agates as the cold air kissed them. She was stark naked in a frozen cave! She immediately grabbed the blanket and clutched it to her, while she tried to remember how she got here. Brilliant white sunlight stabbed at her eyes through the cave mouth, some twenty or thirty feet away. Between her and the mouth of the cave were the glowing embers of what had clearly been an enormous bonfire. Smoke stains darkened the cave roof. She leaned back onto the thick fluffy fur rug that was pressed against her bare back. She snuggled down into the warm . . . fur?

Raven's head slowly turned to one side to look at the enormous fur rug she was lying on. Her normally large eyes widened. Her naked back and ass were sprawled across a gigantic stretch of fur. The emerald green, lumpy, warm fur rug. The rug that was breathing. She carefully sat back up. Over by the fire, someone had driven two stakes into the earthen floor of the cave, hanging her elf boots by the fire to dry, the open ends toward the flames. Nearby, someone had hung her cloak on the wall on a small outcropping of rock. There was her leotard, also laid out on a small boulder where someone had left it. And yes. Next to the leotard was her blue lace bra. And panties. She was stark naked. In a frozen cave. With Beast Boy. Cuddled up. And "someone" had stripped all of her clothes off. Beast Boy was still breathing in an even cadence. With infinite care, she rose and tiptoed over the icy floor to her clothes.

"They're dry, thank Azar, but cheeses! They're cold." Her hands and fingers didn't seem to work right, and she kept fumbling with the catches. She dressed quickly and as silently as possible, but she should have known better. As she was adjusting her leotard, the atmosphere in the room _changed._ She was being watched. She didn't turn until she had buckled on her cloak and raised her hood.

Beast Boy stood there, wide awake, with a concerned look on his face. "You shouldn't be moving around so much until we can get you re-hydrated."

"There's water?"

"I dumped out the survival kit by the wall and melted snow in the box. We've got maybe a quart for starters. I'll have to stoke up the fire to melt more. It's barely above freezing in here. There's no way to seal the cave mouth.

"You seem to have managed fire, "she said.

"It was easy enough to knock down a dead tree, drag it to the door, and break it up," he answered.

"And the fire?"

"Signal flare from the survival kit," said Changeling

"You're . . . pretty inventive," Raven said.

"Just life in the jungle when I was a kid. Staying alive's pretty much the same everywhere."

"I'm not so sure about that. We should get moving."

"Uh – uh," Changeling replied, shaking his head. "Look at your fingertips."

Raven looked down at the tips of her fingers. They were black to the first knuckle.

"Your toes are worse. Raven, you had severe hypothermia complicated by frostbite. I'm no expert, but I know enough about frostbite to know that that's third stage. And you're barely recovering from hypothermia. If you don't heal those fingertips and toes, you're going to lose them. The numbness is going to go away soon, and they're going to hurt like a motherfucker before they heal, and for a normal human, that might take weeks."

"We don't have time for that. We have to get back."

"No, actually, we don't. Not right away. You've got two days' worth of survival food in the survival kit, and I don't need any of it. I've been foraging in my animal forms. Drink." He handed her the water supply and then moved to build the fire back up.

"When you're done eating and go into your healing trance, I'll see what can be done to get us out of here."

Raven reached toward her belt communicator, and Changeling shook his head.

"I've already tried both of them. The lightning that took out the Shards wrecked our com sets. Look, we're already twelve hours over-due. Robin and the team are already looking for us. We're better off staying put in shelter. Besides, your elf boots will be soaked through in ten minutes and you'll be right back to frostbite."

"So I'll fly. There's no point in waiting around to be rescued if we can save ourselves," said Raven.

"And besides," she thought, "I've got a date tonight."

Changeling wiped hand over his face. "Raven, meditate for _five minutes._ Check your energy reserves. If you can fly for a half-hour without collapsing, I'll be surprised. Hypothermia is no joke. And if you don't heal those fingers and toes before you try to use them much, you're going to _lose them._"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Fine." She seated herself on the floor in the lotus position and began to meditate, turning her focus inward.

It took Raven far less than five minutes to realize that Beast Boy was right. Apparently, near death through hypothermia really took it out of you, even if you were half demon. Her current energy was an illusion. Beneath the rest she'd gotten the night before, she was exhausted. Any effort to walk through the snow would wipe her out within an hour. She could fly farther than Beast Boy thought, but no more than an hour, or hour and a half at cruising speed, after which she would collapse to the ground in exhaustion. Right now, if push came to shove, she could fight. For about five minutes. And her fingers and toes were _really_ beginning to hurt. She opened her eyes.

"You're right," she said. "I'm not fit. I'm going to go into a healing trance. Do you need any healing before I go under?"

"No, I'm good. Storm petrels and winter wolves don't get frostbite in this weather."

"Ok," she said. "Um, what was that thing that was carrying me?"

"Kodiak Bear," he replied, bringing her more water and stoking the fire again.

"Not The Beast?" she asked, with a small smile.

He shook his head seriously. "That thing is a weapon of last resort. I lose my higher brain functions. When I'm in that state I can only deal with primal issues. It would have sucked to have crammed you in the crotch of a tree while I ran around a pissed on trees to mark my territory, eh?"

She almost smiled, "Guess so. Okay, I'm going out."

"Eat first," he said, handing her a military-style Meal-Ready-To-Eat. "There's two thousand calories in this. It should hold you for the day."

Changeling folded the survival blanket so that Raven could rest on three layers of the space-age-fabric until her trance was fully engaged. Then she floated up off of the makeshift pallet. With infinite care, Changeling wrapped the thermal blanket around her like a cocoon. He watched her for about ten minutes to be sure she was under, turned back into a winter wolf, and vanished out the mouth of the cave.

When she awoke, the sun was setting, sending shafts of golden light through the cave mouth. She was in a lot less pain, but very tired. A healing trance, while useful, was _not _sleep. Raven found Beast Boy watching her. Feeling a bit awkward, she said, "Is there any food left? I could eat. Again."

"Sure," he said, and dug out another MRE.

"Wait," she said. "There's MORE food here than when I went under."

"Yeah," he said. We caught a break. While you were unconscious I found the Shards, and recovered my survival kit. They're about five miles from here. You now have enough food for, well, another day and a half at this rate. After that, I'll have to forage for you, too."

She dug into the concentrated food and paused to examine her fingertips. The black, necrotic tissue was almost all gone. Another day would have her back in fighting trim, and she'd be able to start arguing for starting out for home. But that would be a fight for another day.

"I was hoping to be able to get one of the com systems working, but the Shards are absolutely totaled," he said. "So I lit the fuel supply as a beacon and stomped around them in human feet to make it clear to the biggest idiot that at least one person had survived the crash and headed this way."

"Good idea. So – now we have _two _survival blankets."

"No," he said, "YOU have two survival blankets. I don't need one. As soon as you're ready to go to sleep, I'm going to turn back into a Kodiak bear."

Raven had been shivering since she woke from her trance. It was barely sixty degrees in the cave, and now that the sun was setting it was getting colder. Changeling threw more wood on the fire, but it didn't seem to help much.

"Now I understand why people don't live here," she said, through blue lips.

She sat down on the small pallet of branches and lichens that Changeling had made for her. She added the two thermal blankets and leaned closer to the fire.

Changeling spoke again. "I figure you've got one more full day in a healing trance, and then we can look at a plan for getting out of here."

Raven looked over at him sharply. She'd expected him to fight the idea of trying to make their own way out tooth and, well, claw.

"Here's what we're going to do," he said, confidently. "I'll scout ahead. When I find or can build shelter within a day's travel, I'll come back and lead you there. It'll be slow, but we'll at least be moving. I'll forage for food. We should be able to make it to Yakutsk in a few weeks."

"A few weeks?"

"Raven, you're not equipped to move in this environment. If we fly fast, you'll get hypothermia in minutes. "

"You move pretty quick. What don't you run to civilization and call Robin, and he can send someone to pick me up?"

There was a long pause. Raven shivered violently.

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"But . . ."

He turned his head. His eyes narrowed. His voice dropped. "All right. Here's my response. What is it about me that makes you think for one second that I would leave a member of my pack, a female, alone in the Siberian wilderness in the dead of winter? Do you think so little of me?"

She bristled. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah. You were doing such a great job of that yesterday."

"Shut up."

She shook violently. Darkness had fallen completely, and a strong breeze had started to blow past the cave mouth. Eddies of icy wind clawed at the chilly air of the cave. The temperature grew colder, with frightening speed.

"Raven, come here."

She shook her head wordlessly. She threw yet more wood on the fire and looked the pile of remaining fuel. There was no way the fire would last until dawn at this rate. And the fire didn't seem to be doing any good. The cave grew no warmer. Her face and hands were so close to the fire they were almost burned, yet her back was almost frozen. She shook again.

"You're being foolish. Come here."

"I _can't"_ she said," facing away.

"Why not?"

"I'm with someone else now."

"Raven. We're not going to have sex. We're not going to kiss. We're going to survive. All these years, and you still don't trust me?"

She turned her head to face him. "No. I trust you. I'm _way_ over that. I've been over that for a very long time. It's just . . ."

"How can I possibly explain?" she thought.

Raven stood atop the gutted shell of the Trans-America building, facing Jump City Bay. The sky was the color of blood, broken up by streaks of endless night. Her long purple hair whipped around her head, alternately clearing and obscuring her vision. Her body slumped weakly, the scarlet Marks of Scath shining through the rents in her tattered clothes. The Bay was filled, not with water, but with a festering mixture of molten lava, and seething blood. It was odd, really, the blood should have immediately burned away, but it merely steamed, shifting and roiling. To her left lay the twisted remnants of the Jump City Bridge, its cables dangling toward the toxic mixture below, and festooned with orange rust that reflected the foul skies above. Nothing moved in the city. All the inhabitants had been turned to stone, crushed, or burned alive. Well, almost nothing. There, in front of her, sat her father. He was Trigon the Terrible, called the Ravager, Skath, Ddrez, God of Fear, and the Thane of Perdition. He reclined on a throne made of the smashed remains of Titan Tower. He shifted, smiling.

Below her, she could see the remains of the docklands, the shipping district that had once fed the economy of the Western United States. Now the edge constantly smoldered, licked eternally by the foul seas. The air was rich with stench. A feast for the nose of a carrion-lover. Rotten meat, blended with the iron scent of blood, all richly overlaid with the smell of brimstone which blew on the wind.

Without moving, Raven found herself standing on the shattered macadam of main street, where it ended at the docks, surrounded by four granite statues. Cyborg. Robin. Starfire. Beast Boy. All twisted in pain, faces eternally locked in a rictus of agony. The ground trembled. She looked up. Trigon had risen from his throne. He slowly walked toward the dock, wading through the poisoned bay. The mass of his passing threw a small wave ahead of him that lapped of the end of the dock, generating more smoke, and stench. Without warning, one of his giant feet came down on top of Robin, pulverizing him to gravel.

"Ah," Trigon said, his rich, low voice rumbling through the ruined city, "I'm sorry daughter. I seem to have stepped on one of your pets. Let me see if I can fix it."

He leaned forward, his four eyes lighting with a sickly yellow as they generated a force beam that shattered Starfire and Cyborg. Raven could not move. Could not speak. Could not think. Trigon bent even closer, his huge clawed hands reaching out to pick up Beast Boy.

"Oops," he laughed. "No matter though. They were just pets. And after all, wasn't this one your favorite, anyway?"

The demon-lord closed his gigantic fist, and gray stone powder began to trickle between his fingers, becoming a waterfall of blood that somehow remained coarse, dry stone powder and it ran down Raven's body, staining her hair, face, and clothing iron-smelling scarlet. And then she could move. She raised her hands before her eyes, to see Beast Boy's blood running into every crease, wrinkle, and scar on her hands.

And this was the point where she normally woke up screaming. Oh, she didn't have the nightmares _every _night. Some weeks she went as many as two entire nights without the nightmare. It didn't matter that she'd been "fated." It didn't matter that she "couldn't stop it." It didn't even matter that ultimately, they'd "had victory," and everything had been "made ok." The fact remained that she'd brought Trigon to earth, and she'd killed all of those people, just as surely as if she'd cut their throats with her own hands. And if it had gone only slightly differently, she would have killed her friends, too. Her heart knew it, her conscience knew it, and she was punished for it almost every night.

And what did all of this have to do with not wanting to curl up with the giant, warm, fuzzy Kodiak bear in an isolated cave in the Siberian wilderness? The sun had set, and the night winds had begun to blow, sucking out what little warmth there was in the cave.

"C'mon, Raven. If you stay up all night feeding the fire, you won't get any rest, and won't be able to meditate and heal tomorrow, and we'll be stuck here another day. Or, if you _don't _feed the fire, you'll wake up every twenty minutes shivering, and _still_ won't be rested enough to heal. You're being stupid."

He walked up behind her, where she sat, bent over the fire, hands shaking so bad she was having trouble holding the survival blankets around her. Her breath steamed in the firelight. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to a safe distance from the fire.

"I really, really don't get what the big problem is," he said, pulling her down to the earthen floor, over-riding her stiffness. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against his chest.

The problem, which she had not even admitted to herself, was this: Last night, when she'd slumbered naked between the powerful arms of the sleeping Kodiak bear, she'd slept through the night. The nightmare hadn't come, which wasn't that big a deal by itself. Almost every week, she skipped a night. Except for one month. One month a long time ago. When she and Beast Boy had been glued together for twenty three days, he had spent twenty three nights in her bed. And every morning she had woken refreshed, energetic, and, well, happy to face the day. By his very presence, he banished her nightmares. And near him, she felt safer than she'd ever felt in her entire life. And facing what that might mean was far, far more than Raven could handle right now.

His arms thickened, broadened, and his clothing vanished. Heavy, thick fur surrounded her on all sides, and the enormous animal began to exude body heat. As she warmed, the tension left her body and her fears began to fade. Something else to think about: agitated and afraid, her powers had not once leaked out. The lines on her face smoothed out as she continued to relax. The animal surrounding her had a musky, masculine scent. It wasn't unpleasant. But it was noticeable. Her mind drifted.

Raven awoke first again the next morning, still troubled by a vague sense of guilt that didn't make any sense. She wasn't doing anything wrong, and if she _didn't _sleep with Beast Boy, she might die. Whatever was bothering her conscience was going to have to wait until they got back to civilization. She rose and stretched, sniffing. She smelled a little like Kodiak bear. Sooner or later, she was going to have to come up with a way to bathe. But that could wait a few more days.

"Okay Raven," said Changeling, "As soon as I see you in your healing trance, I'm going to go and scout toward Yakutsk.

They settled in for breakfast, or at least Raven did. "Are you sure you're eating enough out there?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he answered, "I should be able to find something while I'm scouting the route. Remember, we're leaving tomorrow."

"I know. I think I'll be ready." She looked at her hands. There was only a little black left on the tips of her fingers, and her toes hardly hurt at all. She looked at the food. There was only enough for one more day. Then she'd be eating whatever Beast Boy could forage. She wasn't looking forward to lichen and mushrooms.

When she emerged from her healing trance that night, Beast Boy had already built up the fire. On it roasted the haunch of some kind of animal. She blinked.

"What was it?" she asked. She immediately covered her mouth and said, "I'm so sorry. I was just so surprised."

"It was," he said, looking away, "A Siberian Musk Deer. The IUCN classifies them as 'vulnerable,' but not 'threatened' or 'endangered.' But, it was the only thing I could find and we've gotta eat."

"I thought," she said, "You were finding nuts and mushrooms."

"Raven," he replied. "I've really been putting in the miles. My large animal forms take a lot of energy to sustain. Even more in this weather. Even if I could find nut caches and mushrooms under all this snow, it wouldn't be enough energy for me to function at these levels."

"So," she reasoned, "For the past four days, you've been eating raw meat taken in the hunt, so that I wouldn't have to, and eating enough of it so that you could keep me warm at night."

He said nothing. He just stared out the cave mouth and into the winter night.

"Thank you," she said, quietly.

Raven and Changeling ate the outermost layer of the roasted meat together, without discussion. He built the fire back up and continued roasting it for a couple more hours. After a while, Raven spoke.

"You like . . . stories, right?"

"Sure," he said.

"Okay. Once upon a time, there was a Persian king who married a virgin every night and beheaded each one in the morning . . ."

"Dude. That's harsh."

"Hush. One night, the tyrant king asked for the vizier's daughter, Shahrazad. She entered his chamber and offered to tell him a story . . ."

And so Raven began the pattern of telling Beast Boy the story of Shahrazad, the clever woman from the _Tales from a Thousand and One Arabian Nights." _The stories were mostly fairly short, but they whiled away the time in the evening when it was too cold to be outside, but too early to be sleeping. After the second tale Raven grew silent, and took a drink from their water supply. Then she sat down a safe distance from the fire, her back to Changeling.

"What?" He said. She didn't move or speak.

"Oh, right."

He came up behind her and put his arms around her. She leaned back into him and relaxed into sleep far more quickly than she had the night before. The next morning they rose early. Raven scooped up coals from the fire in a ball of dark energy and levitated above the level of the snow. Changeling strapped on the survival kits, transformed into a winter wolf, and bounded toward the east. Raven followed. At first the pair made slow time, to keep the windchill from freezing Raven. Suddenly Raven popped a bubble of dark energy about herself to keep the wind off and jetted ahead. Changeling grinned a wolfish grin at her, tongue hanging out, and then bounded after her. She accelerated until they were making great time. They covered the five miles Changeling had scheduled for their first day in under two hours.

"I should have thought of that," he said. "That's fantastic. How do you feel?"

"A little tired. Maintaining that bubble was a lot of work, but I could have gone father. I think I'd like to scout with you tomorrow for the next shelter. I think we can go farther every day."

And that was how they traveled for the next week. By day, they would travel to the comfortable limit of Raven's powers.

Raven silently marveled at Beast Boy's stamina. The form of the winter wolf fairly flew over the landscape, muscles bunching and releasing and he bounded across the rough terrain. Occasionally they would come to undergrowth too thick for the wolf or a ridge to high to scale quickly, and he would morph into a large bird to go over them, but for the most part he stayed in the form of a wolf. They managed to cover thirty to fifty miles a day during the morning hours. In the afternoon, they would build or improve a found shelter for the night. When food ran low, Changeling would hunt and they would take a day to roast the meat. At night, Raven would tell tales from _Arabian Nights,_ and then she would sleep in Changeling's arms. The forth night on the trail, their eighth night together on the ground in Siberia, rather than just sit down and wait for him, Raven walked over to where Changeling leaned against the wall of their shelter, climbed into his lap, and began reciting her story, facing the fire. They sat together, in human form, until the tale-telling was over and the shelter began to get very cold. Then there was the night the only shelter they could find was a cave Changeling dug into a snowbank, Raven started the evening by putting her arms around his neck and pulling him close. Unfortunately, that stopped when he leaned back and pressed her bare arm against the wall of snow. With an "oooh" and an "eeek," Raven curled into a ball and remained that way for the rest of the icy night. And not that night, nor any other, did Raven have a single bad dream.

Changeling was in primal paradise. The run, the hunt, even the food he was eating sang to the creatures in his blood and bones. But the nights were something he'd never hoped for or imagined. He slept with Raven in his arms and her scent in his nose each night, and woke to her smiles in the morning. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if she felt the same passion he did.

Then, one morning, it came to an abrupt end.

"Well, now," said a booming, friendly voice, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Raven and Changeling were lying together on the floor of an isolated trapper's cabin. As always, he was curled up around her, her own arms wrapped firmly around one of the forearms of the gigantic bear, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. The two jerked awake suddenly and Changeling snapped back into his human form. Both sat up and said in unison, "It's not what it looks like!"

Cyborg stood on the cabin floor, wearing heavy, over-sized slacks and a parka. Tinted goggles covered his eyes and his voice was merry.

"Damn it's good to see you guys. He stretched out a hand to help Raven to her feet."

"Cyborg!" said Changeling as he scrambled upright. "Dude! How did you find us?"

"Been following the trail you left . You guys move pretty fast. We found the Shards yesterday, and followed the signs you left."

The three friends stepped outside. There sat one of the big black and purple vtol jets used by the Doom Patrol.  
"You guys borrowed one of Steve's planes?" asked Changeling.

"Well, you guys broke the T-ship."

"It wasn't my fault," said Changeling.

"What team is Aqualad with? Where is he?" asked Raven.

"Oh, uh, he's still in Steel City."

"What?" she said, her face falling.

"Oh, he said he wanted to come, but his powers are _really_ not suited to combing frozen mountains for missing people. Plus, he's got that whole 'get dehydrated and die' problem."

"Oh," said Raven, "I . . . guess so. I'll . . . I'll . . .see him soon enough, I guess."

She stalked off toward the vtol plane. Changeling stood, watching her go, then turned to face the hunter's shack.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah. Lemme close the door. Keep the snow out for the owner."

He left the survival kits where they lay, and looked at where the two had spent their last night. He sighed once, then plastered a smile across his face, and left.

Aqualad had popped up immediately after Raven had boarded the vtol jet, calling on the video phone.

"Thank Triton you're okay babe. I was going out of my mind with worry," he said.

"I'm okay," she said, smiling. "Beast Boy took great care of me. He _really_ knows his way around the woods."

A small spasm crossed Aqualad's face: a frown, suppressed.

"Good thing we found you in time."

"We were doing okay, actually. We were making about fifty miles a day, and Beast Boy was having no trouble finding shelter or food. I think we could have made it to civilization in a few more days."

"Well, never mind. You're safe now. Listen, I've got some stuff I can't get away from today and tomorrow, but you need to rest up anyway. How about I come out there for the weekend – I'll take you to dinner Friday night and we'll get caught up."

She smiled openly. "I'd love that."


	23. Not as Think as You Drunk I Am

Author's Notes:

Well, I've certainly got your attention. We'll start with the shout-out's first, and then get to the meat of the message.

Huntress of the Shadows – So, you're saying I write like a girl. I'm clearly going to have to splatter some brains on a wall, and soon. I'm glad you like the changes I'm making in the characters – people are beginning to tell me that some of them are becoming unlikeable.

Omeganian – Oh, that. Yeah. I didn't know it was over on Snopes. I ran across it in someone's Facebook status update. As to what's up with Raven? Well, I'm writing from life. I've been Changeling, and this is pretty much how it went.

. – Thanks. I thought it went really well. I knew they were going to be trapped in a cave in the wilderness. But I didn't know how to get them there without it being contrived. It was easier than I thought.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – Don't worry. Fish-lips is gonna get his comeuppance, and soon.

BBLover – Don't worry. Things are coming to a head soon. The problem is: Raven thinks she's got what she wants already, so she's not looking at what's in front of her. And, of course, Changeling has allowed her to think of his as a friend, when that's not what he wanted.

Xxil0v3pikachuxX – How the heck do you pronounce that, anyway. Welcome to the party. Hang in there. There will be tar-tar sauce on the walls soon.

Densharr – I'm the same. I mean, half the animals he turns into eat other animals. That's why I dialed it back. He's gone lacto/ovo and will eat meat when it's convenient.

Jimmy – Yeah. You're not alone. A frustrated mob is beginning to gather with pitchforks and torches.

Alister Nightfoot – Welcome to the party. And thanks. I actually stressed about picking the car.

redzenin – Sheharezad is one of my favorite female characters of all time. Brave, brilliant, and still girly.

JohnXGambit – She's just banned from telling stories to little kids. She's fine for the 11-and-up crowd.

yumiulrichlovers – Cool. You are my very first death threat! Hey, at least I'm not doing cliff-hangers. Maybe I should take that up.

Shadico – I promise. You're going to like how it turns out. In fact, I'll be sorting this out in the next few chapters. We'll get to a happy ending, or at least a happy medium in 6000 – 8000 words. Swear.

theluckyshot – Don't hurt the wall. And put on a helmet. We're coming to the end of this phase of the relationship, but it's going to get worse before it gets better. What can I say – teenagers make stupid mistakes.

Lord Vukodlak – He would. If he was perceptive enough to think about anyone but himself.

NicoletteSchmidt – Okay, okay. Frustration will be coming to an end Real Soon Now™. Aqualad will get what's coming to him. And yes, I'd forgotten that one. "Love you like a brother" is even worse than the "Nice guy" jab to the head and the "cherish your friendship" gut punch.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Always nice to hear from you.

BoutsofInsanity42 – You're not the only one. If you stick with me for a couple more chapters, Raven will get off "stuck on stupid." It's just hard to see what's in front of you when you think you already have what you want.

Joseph – Check the author's notes for Chapter's 19 and 20. I've footnoted and also removed some dialogue. I don't know if Gwahir10 is aware of my work; he doesn't accept PMs, so I've got no way to tell him.

* * *

Okay – time to get this barge under way. I have a few more stupid decisions or Raven to make, but I plan to have her head sorted out in just a few more chapters. I have a lemon coming up, but I'm really concerned about getting into trouble. Explicit lemons violate the terms of service of fanfiction dot net. After all this work, I don't want my story deleted and my account banned. I was thinking about posting it off-site and giving ya'll the URL. But that only gets me out of trouble with ff dot net. I don't need somebody's dad showing up at my front door because I've been peddling smut to his minor child. Not sure what to do about it. I would hate to skip it, because it's got the funniest "you should use a condom" statement ever written.

Before you ask, the I used the Shoulder Angel trope because I saw it in the Titans Short "" on youtube the other day. It thought it was cute and wanted to explore it. And I like the idea of someone's conscience being passed out drunk.

In coming chapters, you're going to see the fall of the last virgin in Titan Tower, a thrilling confrontation involving Aqualad and the loading door of a cargo aircraft about a mile over the Mojave Desert, and a costume party themed "Come as your Favorite Villain." You'll miss all that and more if you bail on me now.

Oh, and YES, Long Island Teas really DO have that much alcohol in them. I had had her drink FOUR before I did my research, and found out that that was enough alcohol to put a woman her size into a COMA. So I had to dial it back.

* * *

That night, Aqualad had said, "Casual," so she had pulled on a pair of designer jeans, a long, sleeve, form fitting white button down shirt, and topped it off with a floppy burgundy hat and matching purse. He picked her up in a rental car and took her to dinner. They went to a battered restaurant near the water. When they walked in the door, Raven wrinkled her nose. The place had a musty odor. Aqualad caught the look on her face.

"I know," he said, but check it out. He motioned through a doorway to their right. The room was dark with dance lights. "

"It's not really – romantic," she thought. "But the booths have really high backs. Nobody's staring at us. That's good."

She tried to relax. A bored waiter came over to the table. He seemed utterly oblivious to the two super-heroes sitting in his section.

"Drinks?" he asked.

"Two long island iced teas," he said.

Raven's eyebrows went up, but the waiter didn't bat an eye.

"They don't card here," Aqualad smiled.

Raven looked over at the dance club, _packed _with teens.

The drinks came. Aqualad picked his up and sipped.

"Ah," he said, and then glanced over at her. "Lighten up Raven. Live a little."

Reluctantly, she picked up her drink and sipped. She smiled slightly. She wasn't really a drinker, but this did taste kind of like sweet tea. With lemon. She sipped again. The food was ok. The service was ok. They chatted about inconsequential things and then hit the dance floor. Turned out that Aqualad didn't just know the formal ballroom dances she's seen at the Wayne Foundation gala. He could also move it on a contemporary dance floor. He had the innate grace of a swimmer, the experience of an older man, and the confidence of an alpha male. He was perfect. Raven's moves, on the other hand, weren't so good. She seemed to be misplacing her feet a little. From time to time, she would bump into him. But he led so well that he made her feel graceful in spite of herself. Her eye stung. Sweat was actually running down her face.

"Ow," she though. "Wow, I'm sweating. And thirsty."

The couple took a break, and Aqualad ordered Raven another Long Island Ice Tea. They sat for awhile while she drank. The couple watched as others moved around the room. One particular guy turned his head to watch a pretty girl and managed to walk straight into a support column.

"His gene pool could use a little chlorine," said Aqualad, with a snicker.

Raven giggled, "I never noticed how funny you are."

It didn't take her long to get through the drink, and they were back on the dance floor. This time the music slowed, and Aqualad pulled her in close. She was too short to grind his pelvis against hers, but he slid his hands down past her back to cup both cheeks of her ass, and squeezed. A rush of heat ran through Raven's body and her cheeks flushed. A part of her mind argued that people could see, but the rest of her just thought he felt good pressed up against her. She leaned forward and sighed.

And at the end of the evening, they ended up in the back seat of Aqualad's rental car on the beach on Titan island. Again.

Raven took a deep breath as he leaned over and kissed her. Her pulse went up and her hands shook as she reached up around his neck. His lips left hers and began to bestow small, gentle kisses along her jaw line. Fire ran along her skin. He drew her earlobe between his lips and bit gently.

"Ah!" she said, and arched her back.

He put his hand just below her sternum and gently pressed her back down. He returned to her lips and gently explored behind her teeth, wrestling with her own. His right hand still pressed against her chest while his left came up and held the back of her head. He shifted to the other side of her face and put a row of gentle, tiny kisses down her ear. Her eyes flew open as sparks through her skin. Her heart raced, pounding like it was going to fly out of her chest. His right hand shifted up her chest to the top button of her shirt. She'd been expecting this.

"It's okay," she told herself. "It's okay."

With a practiced hand, he flicked the button open and then, still kissing her, brought his right hand back up to her neck, gently stroking the muscles over her jugular. Gently, oh, so slowly, he slid his hand down her shoulder and under her bra strap.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."

He slid his hand down under her bra to cup her left breast in his hand.

"It'sokayitsokayitsokayitsokay . . . ."

He moved his lips to the nape of her neck as he gently squeezed her left nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling it a little.

That was when the bolt of dark energy shot out of her seventh chakra, stuck Aqualad in the hand and knocked him back against the door. Then it bounced off both doors, shattering both rear windows and vanished into the night.

"Fuck, Raven! What the hell was that for?"

He held his right hand in his left squeezing tightly.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, "I was just nervous and it . . ."

"How about trying 'no,' or 'stop,' or 'quit' before going straight for the taser, huh?"

"It was an accident," she nearly shouted. "I didn't mean to!"

He glared at her.

"Let me see, please?" she asked.

She turned on the dome light and took his hand in both of hers. It was a bad second degree burn across the inside of his hand. His entire palm was an angry red, and blisters were popping up from his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I don't dare try to heal it in my current state. Let's go up to the Tower. We have to get this cleaned or it will get infected, and scar."

The couple road the elevator up in silence. Raven swayed on her feet as she thought about apologizing again, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. They entered the common room to find Cyborg idly channel surfing the late-night TV.

"You guys are back a little early."

"Little mishap. Minor burn," said Raven. "We need the first-aid kit."

"I'll get it," he said, heaving himself up from the couch.

Cyborg turned on a task light over in the food prep area and broke out the first aid kit from below the counter. He watched while Raven dressed the wound. With an engineer's eye for detail, he noticed Raven's flushed face, accelerated breathing, and unbuttoned shirt.

"That," he thought, "is not a burn from a restaurant steam table or a car engine. I've been working with Raven too many years. That's from a bolt of dark energy. I wonder if it's time to get out my filleting knives?"

He glared at Aqualad.

"Then again," he continued, "Raven's patching him up. If he was putting his hands where she didn't want them, she seems to have handled it. Conclusion: stand down. But Changeling's right. I don't like this guy, either."

"Looks like you guys got it under control. I think I'll hit the recharger." And with that he was gone.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "That's going to have to be changed twice a day until it heals. Try to keep it dry and . . . oh shit."

He heaved a great sigh. "It's okay. A good dunking in salt water overnight and my accelerated healing will take care of most of it before morning, but it's really starting to burn, so I'm going to hit the Bay."

Raven saw him to the shore and watched as he vanished into the Bay, then made her way back to her room alone, where she quietly raged for over an hour. Upstairs, the door the common room opened. Changeling, wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs, shuffled in and grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. He paused at the door and sniffed. Then sniffed again.

"I wonder who was cooking fish-sticks this time of night?" He shrugged, and went back to bed.

Raven grumbled on. "Dammit, I WAS having fun. I DIDN'T want him to stop. I was just nervous and . . . lost control."

In spite of his injury, Aqualad had invited Raven to the movies in two week's time. And she was utterly determined to not freak out on him again. She would return to full-bore meditation and get her emotions back under control. Then these random bolts would stop. Having come to a solution she thought would work, Raven calmed down, and prepared for bed.

Funny thing about alcohol. It doesn't really affect you in your stomach. It's when it's in your blood that it hits you. If you drink even a little quickly, the booze hangs out in our stomach until it can get processed, so as time passes, even though you don't drink any more, you continue to get drunker.

Raven had quit drinking an hour ago, but it didn't really matter. Her stomach continued to process all that alcohol, and the longer she sat up, the drunker she got. She left her clothes scattered all over the floor and flopped naked on her bed. The room spun a little bit, so she got back upright. She felt a little – edgy. And wasn't at _all_ looking forward to her nightly nightmare. She giggled.

"Okay – the tall one left. But I know where there's _another_ one."

She walked toward the door. As she approached the door, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and whirled around, swaying. She giggled again. It was her full length mirror. She looked at her stark-naked form.

"Ooops. You're supposed to _wrap_ presents."

She walked unsteadily over to her chest. It took her four tries to pop the mystic seal she'd put on it. Looking inside, she pushed the giant chicken, chess set, and other items aside. There – the midnight blue babydoll Starfire had given her years ago. She pulled in on over her head and checked the mirror again. She'd been a lot younger when she'd gotten it, and it fit differently. It was a little tight across her breasts and nipped in below them. It was long enough that it lay four inched below her groin but she'd better not bend over wearing it.

She stepped out the door and went across and down the hall.

She couldn't find the buzzer.

*tap-tap-tap*

Changeling was still awake. He'd been surfing the net and reading. He rose and went to the door, pulling it open.

"Oh, hi Raven. You're up late."

"Oh, not so much. C'n I come in?"

Changeling looked at the tiny woman, her abbreviated attire and raised an eyebrow.

"Um, sure?"

He stood aside. Raven walked in and sat down on the corner of his bed, kicking her feet that dangled above his carpet.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey?" he replied.

"I had a date tonight," she said.

"I know." He had serious suspicions at this point. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Mostly," she said, but then I got over-excited, and burnt my date's hand." She giggled. "Guess I'm a 'hot date.'"

Changeling winced, losing all doubt.

"C'mon, come over here and sit by me. I'll be way more comfortable than that desk chair," she said.

"Iiiiye think I'm fine where I am," he replied.

Raven rose, and walked the three steps that separated them. Without warning she threw one leg over Changelings legs and leapt on her lap, straddling him. She put her hands behind his neck.

"Help a girl out? I mean, Cyborg dated a _lot _before his accident. Robin and Starfire have been sneaking in and out of each other's rooms for _months._ And _you _had that endless parade of blondes through here. I'm tired of being the only virgin left in Titan Tower."

She poked out her lower lip and look up at him through her lashes, face framed with purple hair.

Changeling would have been doomed, except when he looked into her eyes, he noticed that they weren't pointing in quite the same direction. Then she kissed him full on the mouth, hard. His eyes closed, but then her scent hit his nose.

Her hair smelled like a dirty ashtray from the smoke filled air in the underground club. Worse, her mouth tasted like a distillery. A cheap distillery.

There was a sudden flash, a puff of smoke, and a four-inch tall devil appeared on Changeling's right shoulder. He wore Changeling's face, but wore a Grecian-style tunic and carried a three-tined pitchfork. Instead of green, his skin and hair were shades of red.

"Dude! Total pass! She came here, practically stark naked and LITERALLY asked for it! NOBODY can say she didn't have it coming!"

Raven's body, barely concealed by the silk nightie, was warm and soft against his. Changeling's heart began to pound.

There was another *poof* and puff of smoke. And a pale-skinned angel stood on Changeling's other shoulder.

"Garfield – what the hell are you thinking?! That girl is _obviously _not in her right mind. It doesn't matter what the law says, if you take advantage of her, you'll _never_ forgive yourself."

"Dude, she treats you like tofu eggs! This is your big chance."

Then the Shoulder Angel spoke in Papa Logan's voice. "Garfield, how do you want her to remember you when she sobers up?"

Just then, there was a _third_ puff of smoke, and a tiny Shoulder Devil appeared on Raven's shoulder. Her Grecian tunic was falling off of one shoulder. Her eyes were a little crossed, the tangs of her pitchfork were bent, and she swayed on her feet.

"Mind y'r own beeswax, buster!"

She lost her balance on Raven's shoulder and wind-milled her arms to recover her balance.

"Shuddup," she went on. "We're horny over here. Right girl?" She looked over to Raven's other shoulder."

There lay a Shoulder Angel with Raven's face. Her legs were sprawled awkwardly; her tunic rucked up messily over her thighs. Her shoulder strap was also fallen down, and her halo was askew. She was completely unconscious, drooling a little on Raven's shoulder strap.

"That," said Changeling's Shoulder Devil, "is nasty."

"I concur," said the Shoulder Angel.

"I mean," the Shoulder Devil continued, "I woman who's a _little_ tipsy can be erotic, 'cause it makes you think her inhibitions are a little down."

"But a woman who's sloppy drunk. . .," said the Shoulder Angel, shaking his head, "It's just kind of . . ."

"Gross," finished the Shoulder Devil.

"So we're in agreement?" Asked the Shoulder Angel?

"Yeah," answered the Shoulder Devil. "I got nuthin'."

There was a pop, and both vanished.

"Damn," slurred Raven's Shoulder Devil, "We can't get laid in a house full of teenage boys. Whoops!"

She fell of off Raven's shoulder and vanished in a puff of smoke, taking the near comatose Shoulder Angel with her.

Changeling reluctantly opened his eyes, grabbed Raven by the shoulders and lifted her up.

"What?" she asked.

"You are drunk."

"What?" she asked.

"Really drunk."

He stood, dumping her on her feet. She wobbled, and her knees buckled. Raven could no longer stand. He swept her up off of her feet peeked out the door. Nobody in the corridor, he snuck her back to her bedroom. Her head lolled.

"Okay Raven – no sleeping yet."

No response.

He slapped her face gently.

"Ow, what?"

"You can't sleep yet. You haven't finished your . . . drink?"

"Drink?" she said.

Changeling put an enormous glass of water in front of her.

"This will help a little with the hangover that's coming. It'll help lower the dehydration and make the headache a little better in the morning. Drink it all."

Raven obediently drank it down, and then fell over onto the bed. Changeling smiled and pulled the sheet up over her. Then he sighed, grabbed a chair, and sat by her bed.

"Steve said that Jimmy Hendrix died from drunkenly aspirating his own puke. I'll wait until she's a little more sober." He grabbed a book and sat by her as the night passed. She never did get sick, and at about four-thirty in the morning she shifted in her sleep. Finally, he pulled her curtains shut and went back to his own bed.

Very, very late the next morning, right before lunch, Raven pried her eyes open.

"Joy," she said. "I delight in new experiences. My first hangover. Azar!" she said, and squeezed her eyes closed. She didn't have the headache she'd heard tell of. She didn't have the sensitivity to light, or at least she didn't think so. It was pretty dark in the room. But every fiber of her being felt _bad. _Her muscles ached. All of them. Her joints hurt. Her eyeballs felt like they'd been pulled out, rolled in salt, and put back into the wrong sockets. She opened them again, and turned her head to once side. There, on the side table was a large glass of water and two aspiring.

"Thank Azar," she said. "Beast Boy must have . . . "

She dropped the glass. Humans are blessed with a blackout point, after which they get so drunk the no longer remember what they've done. Apparently, she was discovering, demons do not. She could remember every single detail of her attempt to seduce . . .

"Beast Boy. Oh Azar. How am I ever going to look him in the eye?"

There was a tap at the door. A very soft one.

"What?" she said.

"It's me," said Beast Boy.

She winced. "Might as well get it over with. Come in."

The door opened and Beast Boy stood there. With a breakfast tray.

"I figured you wouldn't want to come upstairs to eat, and you need to. I know you're stomach's probably pretty delicate, but if you can keep some food down, the hangover will clear up faster."

He'd provided a pot of coffee, a small glass of orange juice, half a grapefruit, a small bowl of oatmeal, and a huge pitcher of water.

"That's it? No teasing? No smug lectures?"

"I'm the last person to deliver smug lectures. How do you think I know so much about hangovers?"

She actually smiled a little at that.

"As for teasing, nah. You get a free pass. This time."

"Thanks. Do the others . . . know?"

"No, I checked. You were still on your feet when Cyborg went to bed, and Robin and Starfire never saw you at all."

"I owe you. Again."

"Not really. You'd have done the same thing."

She snorted, "If you'd come on to me like that, I'd probably have put you through a wall."

"Maybe, but I figured it wasn't you."

"?"

"You'd never do something like that. Not to me. I figure you passed out about an hour before. There was pretty much nothing left in there but the alcohol talking. Not you."

Raven couldn't think of much to say to that, so she ate in silence. She didn't feel much like it, but he was right. Once she got a little food down she started to feel a little better. Which was just as well. She had a long week ahead. She had a date coming up, and she was _not_ going to hurt her companion again.

She dropped "emotion exercises" with Starfire entirely, saying she needed a break to process everything they'd done so far. Then she dove back into her meditation control as had as she could. If she wasn't chasing bad guys, asleep, or eating, she was meditating. She never thought she'd ever have a relationship like this, and she wasn't going to lose it because of her powers.

It was a couple of days later, and Cyborg was troubled. Raven insisted that she was ok, and that she could handle any problems. But he'd seen the look of fear and panic that had crossed her face when Aqualad had departed, nursing his burned hand. It had been a while since he'd dated, but Cyborg knew the signs of trouble in paradise. The question was, what could he do about it? Right now, the answer was a big, fat, nothing. He needed more data.

"Of course," he thought, "it would be unethical to use my position as system administrator of the Titan computer network to look at his communications records without good cause. If course. If I performed and audit of _everybody's_ comms, well, that would be just doing my job."

He sat in front of the workstation in his room and pulled up the network schematic.


	24. Note From The Author (Note egg on face)

Author's Notes:

Hotaru – You have a _fine_ turn of phrase. Do you have any stories posted here I could go read?

Sorry for the chaos. That wasn't a chapter, and didn't belong here. I got inspired by something from the reviews and wrote a vignette around a _really_ slick turn of phrase. Late and night, I posted on automatic pilot and stuck it here out of habit. It's been moved to it's own story, _Endgame for Hotaru, _and this space will return to it's regularly scheduled fantasy romance tomorrow. That is, if I can fix it.

Raven just decided to exterminate all humanity because it was less work that taking out the Citadel, the Gordian Empire, and the Empire of the Skrulls. And that's a little over the top, even for her. I'm going to have to talk her out if it and it may take an extra day or so.


	25. Like a Machine

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs:

Huntress of the Shadows - Don't sweat it. I was just funnin' ya. Yes, Aqualad is standing in for every guy I didn't like in high school. By the time I'm done with him, he will be the consummate jackass. As for Rae and the mistakes she's making – there's a reason. All should become clear in this episode.

New World Order – Sorry about that. I was updating it to make some attributions, and pasted the wrong text. Chapter 20 should be fixed now. Send up a flare if it's not.

Shugokage – Always good to hear from you. Glad you liked the shoulder angels. I've always thought the trope was funny, and after I saw it used in the Titan's short, I couldn't resist. It is, of course, a shout-out to the same scene in "Animal House," the classic movie from my now distant youth.

JohnXGambit – Not a spy. Merely a responsible sysadmin running a routine audit. Really.

Densharr – Glad you liked it. That's coming to a head soon, in the next chapter, in fact. The open loading door of a cargo plane over the Mojave Desert. Very thrilling. Sadly, already done to death in every James Bond movie ever made. But I'm gonna give it my own spin.

BoutsofInsanity42 – Here's the head's up you asked for. You may want to skip the chapter.

Hotaru – Hmmm. I see your points. From where I'm standing , though, Starfire is also a friend to Changeling. She doesn't want to leave him twisting in the wind. It's true: Raven's the most knowledgeable of the Titans in many ways. But knowledge does not translate directly into experience. Why she's making these mistakes should become clear in this chapter. I probably should have gotten to it sooner.

Katwizzle – Do the buckling of the seat belts.

Dylanbiancamano – Your wish is my command.

Theluckyshot – You can, can you? Well, let's just see if I can surprise you. Cyborg's intervention isn't in this chapter, but the next one. The actual explicit lemon is simply going to be omitted from the text. I'm working on getting an account on Adultfanfiction dot net, but I can't post yet. So when it's available, I'll let you guys know. It's not very steamy. Kinda clinical, actually. Although it does have the most convincing "you should wear a condom" talk in the history of lemons.

NicoletteSchmidt – If I'm doing it right, she should be the _only_ one who's doing it. It's supposed to be symbolic of her refusal to see that he's grown up. I've got a funny scene in mind I'm going to re-work from Raven's Wedding that will fix that.

Thowell3, Alister Nightfoot, Dizzy, shingi echidna, ladyfelton1994,Anon, Dizzy, and Hairul – Sory about that. I shouldn't upload when I'm sleepy. It should be sorted now.

* * *

Whew – okay, let's see. Couple of pieces of housekeeping. Time was advancing too fast, and our characters were aging too quickly. There's a Halloween party coming up, and I didn't want to advance Raven and Changeling into their twenties. She's already 19. So that Winter Gala has been retconned into a Summer Solstice festival. I didn't have to change much but the décor.

The promised lemon is in this chapter, but I'm going to drop it. I just can't bring myself to publish it in this venue. It will be alluded to, so it won't break the plot, and when I get it placed on an appropriate site, I'll let ya'll know and you can check it out, if you'll double-dog-promise me you're not a minor. I just do not need some 15-year-old's papa showing up on my doorstep with a shotgun (or worse, a lawyer) because I was peddling smut to his minor daughter.

In this chapter, we have Raven's final two mistakes, and the clarity that comes from them. I think that we will hit the low point in this chapter, and after this, things will begin to lighten up. I am sorry about the folks I've run off, but you can't please everybody.

Looking down the road, we're going to see that as a matter of fact, Aqualad _can_ go lower. Raven's nightmares are going to return. She's going to quit calling him "Beast Boy." We've got a really kickin' Halloween party to go to.

Thanks for sticking with me so far. Two chapters tonight, and maybe another one tomorrow. The muse is upon me. (Go ahead. Google 'muse.' I'll wait.)

* * *

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." Lamont Cranston

* * *

Raven had expected to feel relief when Beast Boy didn't press her on wanting to "talk about" or "process" their experience in the wilderness or harass her about her drunken episode. But she didn't. She'd also expected to feel excited and butterflies in her stomach for her approaching date. But she didn't. She just sort of moved through her day, content. Monday – Mumbo Jumbo. Tuesday – Cinderblock. Wednesday – Plasmus. Thursday – Blunderbuss. Friday – Kraken. She meditated each morning and evening. And things went quite . . . smoothly. He powers stayed well under control. Her combat skill training was machine-like. She avoided Beast Boy most of the time, but couldn't really remember why. He'd ceased to be annoying. She also started skipping breakfast again. All the starch made her logy and hurt her morning meditation. And all the chatter was distracting.

"And what value comes out of all that chit-chat, anyway? Pointless, really."

Friday came and she prepared for her date. She went into the bathroom she shared with Beast Boy and her hands went to her cloak clasp, and stopped.

"I showered this morning. There have been no alerts all day, and no training. I haven't sweated any to speak of. There's no point in showering again. She brushed her teeth and turned to her closet.

"Aqualad's made it perfectly clear he's sexually attracted to me. Dressing up is pointless."

She kept her leotard on. As Raven prepared to leave on her date, Cyborg continued his network audit.

"Look here," he said to himself, "Aqualad is using 70% more storage space than any other Titan. If it's work-related, I should allocate more space to him. It would be a failure in my responsibilities as sys admin not to check the contents of these folders."

Raven took the elevator down to the lobby, not particularly interesting in the banal greeting ritual that always passed between the boys when Aqualad came upstairs. As she rode, she came to a conclusion.

"My nervousness has gone away. I'm not afraid anymore, and I'm tired of being the last virgin in Titan Tower."

They went out to dinner at a chain pasta-place near the shopping district, and then to a movie. Raven had been quiet for most of dinner, letting Aqualad carry most of the conversation.

"This," she thought, "is tedious. I get enough save-the-planet from Beast Boy. I get it – we need a viable ecosystem so we'll have a place to live. Although having personally killed everyone on earth at least once, my feelings about life on this planet are a little skewed."

"Come to think of it," she continued in her head, "We're all going to die eventually, anyway. Anything we build will eventually break down. It's all pretty pointless."

When Aqualad asked what she'd like to see, she shrugged.

"They're all either derivative pieces spun off of concepts fifty years old or out-and-out remakes. If you look at it from the right perspective, we've seen them all already. Choosing between them is pointless."

Aqualad blinked, nonplussed. "Um, okay. How 'bout a romantic comedy?"

"Whatever," replied Raven.

It had been a Hugh Grant/Julia Roberts vehicle, utilizing all of the standard tropes. Raven had been able to see the "plot twists" coming a half hour in advance and predict almost line-for-line the tearful reconciliation at the end. Raven's sense of humor had never been well developed, but she wasn't able to see the point in _any_ of this.

"Which is a little strange," she thought. "Because, this is professionally done. Well written, well directed, and well acted, it should have been trite, but entertaining. Perhaps I'm more nervous about later than I thought."

But she wasn't. As Aqualad pulled the rental car up to his favorite spot on the beach near Titan Tower, she didn't feel any butterflies. Her hands did not shake. She slid into the backseat without waiting for his invitation. He shrugged out of his jacket and carefully balanced his Titan communicator on the back of the seat on Raven's cloak.

"No point in being coy," she thought.

He leaned into her and they kissed. She found his lips to be acceptably moist, neither dry nor sloppy. His body temperature, so seemingly hot before was, she estimated, about 97.8. Well within the normal band for a human, or a dolphin, come to think of that. He kissed her jaw and his hands roamed her body. She ran her fingers through his hair, but could only assess that it was clean, well maintained, and he didn't seem to have any tangles or split ends.

He began to pull the collar of her leotard away from her neck. She grasped his hand. He was about to sigh in exasperation when he heard her say, "The zipper is in the back."

The next twenty minutes went as those things do for young people.

"So, how was it for you?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," was her response. "It was clinically interesting, but since it was my first time, I don't really have a reference for comparison. Okay, I guess."

His fast twisted up like he'd bitten a lime.

"Okay, huh? Well, it will get better with practice."

"I hope so," she replied, somewhat lost in thought.

He frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"Could you run me back to the Tower?" she asked as she started putting on her under garments. "I should shower soon."

"Um, sure," he said, and reached for his pants.

"So," said Aqualad as Raven grabbed the door handle, "Same time next week?"

"I guess so," said Raven.

Shortly, Raven stood in the shower, carefully washing her pudendum inside and out.

"No point in getting a urinary tract infection over that," she thought. "I'll try it again and see if it improves, but that certainly wasn't worth the effort, or the trouble. Something must be missing, because I don't understand what the big deal is."

The next week pretty much went by the same as the week before. Raven processed villains like a freshly overhauled computer. Monday - Hive Five. Tuesday - Ding-Dong-Daddy. Wednesday: Control Freak. Thursday – Jonny Rancid. Friday – Dr. Light. At least, as far as her work went. With her friends it was a different story.

"Hey Raven," said Cyborg, one morning, "Waffles? Got a brand new olive wood mixing spoon spoon I'm dyin' to try out."

"No," she said flatly. "I don't need all those carbs. Herbal tea."

Cyborg's face fell. "Um, okay Raven. Whatever. Lemme know if you change your mind."

"Unlikely," she said in the same unchanging tone of voice.

Later:

"Friend Raven," said Starfire, "can we perhaps try again to contact the spirit world tonight?"

"They're not interested in talking to us, and they don't know anything we want to know. What's the point?"

"Because – it's fun to do with a friend-that-is-a-girl?"

"Starfire, we've been over this. I don't 'do fun.'"

Starfire looked at Raven. Hard. Then walked away, a thoughtful expression on her face.

But perhaps the most telling moment came Friday evening, as the team was watching the city police pack a carefully handcuffed Dr. Light into the prisoner transport.

"Capturing him was pointless," Raven said. "He'll only escape again. How many people will he hurt before we can catch him again?"

"Waddaya gonna do," said Cyborg ,"have him whacked?"

Raven cocked her head and said, "Well, it would be more efficient."

The Titan's laughed for a second, then stopped.

Changeling spoke first, "Raven? Are you serious?"

"I'm just saying . . ."

Robin interrupted her. "Heroes don't kill. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing. I was just trying to see the point of all this running around when he's just going to get out again."

She leaned back and her eyes vanished into the shadows of her hood.

Her date with Aqualad had gone even more mechanically than the last one. They had gone to a local pasta chain, then for a little dancing, and then down to the spot on the beach. They'd had sex in the back of the car again and dressed silently. Aqualad then drove up to the tower.

"Um, Raven," said Aqualad, "I don't think this is working out."

"Oh?" she said.

"The sex just isn't that good. I'm through wasting my time. I thought you'd get better with practice, but this is worse than last time."

She paused to think for a moment. There had been a certain clinical interest in the mechanics of sex, but those questions had been answered, and, frankly, she couldn't remember why she'd been interested in a boyfriend in general or Aqualad in particular. After all, she couldn't allow herself to reproduce. If you're not going to reproduce, mating is kind of pointless.

"I guess so. Take me back to the Tower."

She stood in the doorway of the tower and watched the rental car drive away.

She headed to her room, planning a fast shower. No point in getting a urinary tract infection. But when she entered her room to pick up a change of clothes she found Starfire waiting for her.

"Hi," she said.

"Friend Raven, something is wrong."

She checked her belt communicator. "I didn't get an alert."

"Nothing is wrong in the city, friend. It is wrong in you."

Starfire went to Raven's bookshelf and took down her copy of _The Book of Azar_, _The Necronomicon, _and a battered partial copy of _The Endriel Verses Book III._

"How? Everything has been going smoothly. My powers are under control. I haven't hurt anybody."

Starfire rose and got down a couple of Raven's books.

"You have become cold these past weeks."

"I've just stopped throwing little fits of drama. You can't miss them."

Starfire crossed the room and picked up Raven's magic hand mirror, being careful not to look into it, and placed it next to the books.

"I miss your smiles and your rare laughter."

"Starfire. I hurt Aqualad on our date. I burned his hand while making out."

Starfire went to Raven's chest of drawers and got out some random panties, a bra, and, a pair of socks, then added them to her stack of Raven's things.

"Be that as it may, people who love you do not like to see you sinking into this depression."

"Starfire, I'm not depressed. At worst, I don't feel much of _anything_. I don't miss it_._"

There was a small box on Raven's side table. Starfire walked over to it, opened it, and took out a silver chain upon which dangled a single penny. She added it to the pile of Raven's things. She stepped over to her, grasped her shoulders, and look directly into her hood.

"Friend Raven, I have just violated your most intimate privacy four times. I have disturbed your things, moved them without permission, and you do not care."

"I wondered what you were doing, but it's just stuff. I can put it back when you're done."

"Can you not see that this not how you normally behave?"

"I just don't see where it's that big a deal."

"_Nothing_ is a big deal to you anymore. Very well. I wish to point out something you have missed. Friend Raven, when you got home, I was _in your room._ I came into your room _uninvited_ and _without permission._ How is it that you do not even _care?_"

_That_ brought Raven up short. Her room had been her sacred sanctum since she came to Titan Tower. Her first place to ever call her own, he was her quiet retreat from the constant wash of emotion that came from living with four hormone-charged teenagers that made no effort to reign in their passions. It was her place of peace in a city full of love, rage, anger, pain, confusion, hope and sorrow. There she was able to compose her thoughts, calm her mind, study, learn, and relax. She'd guarded it like a tigress for the first few years. _Nobody_ went into Raven's room. Ever. Then, as time passed, though it had taken years, she'd eventually invited each of the Titans there on extremely rare occasions, for very specific purposes. That Starfire was able to barge in, re-arrange things, and have Raven not even care was abnormal. Even for Raven.

"All right," she conceded. "I'll give it some thought. I need to get a shower and some sleep, but I'll see about it tomorrow."

"Very well Friend Raven," said Starfire, with deep concern. "We are worried for you. All of us."


	26. Howling Fury, Chocolate, And Clarity

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

The next day Raven seated herself upon her bed and took out her magic hand mirror, settled into the lotus position with it in her lap, and began to chant her mantra. Her soul-self departed her body and vanished into her mirror. When she opened her eyes she saw that she had landed, as usual, on the walkway near Happy's domain. She walked through the portal in to "Air Freshener Land," and the soft, spring-like landscape popped into focus. The rolling hills were still covered with lilacs and lupins. There was jasmine in every corner, and scented trees were scattered hither and yon. As she walked, Raven tried to remember why she'd though "Air Freshener Land" had been a slightly amusing turn of phrase, but she couldn't. She concentrated as she walked. She could remember the theory of how humor worked. What a double entendre was. How puns were constructed. But she couldn't remember anything _funny_. Her sense of humor had never been a _big _part of her personality. But she'd _had_ one. Then she realized something else. Happy always greeted her by now. And she was nowhere to be seen.

"Happy!" Raven called.

Her voice echoed off the hillsides. But no voice answered by her own.

She continued through Timid's maze. The sky remained dark, the ground grey, and the maze perfectly suited for a frightened mouse to hide. Raven knew the way and whipped through the maze quickly, but she couldn't find the aspect of her fears anywhere. That wasn't all that alarming by itself. Timid was often hiding.

But Brave was never hard to find. Her domain consisted of a vast arena and gymnasium, based on the Flavian amphitheater in Rome. Most folk called it the Coliseum. Multiple stories tall, constructed of marble, with a sand floor for the challenges. She was always to be found down on the sands of the arena, practicing, drilling, working out, and looking for new challenges. Nothing.

Rude's Basement Bar and Grill. Empty. Wisdom's temple. Empty. Sloth's hammock. Empty. Rage's prison cell. Empty. Finally, she came to Knowledge's library. And there she was, seated at a sloped writing desk, surrounded by ancient volumes, writing. She finished the line she was working on, place the pen in the inkwell, blotted the page, and turned.

"Hello Raven," said Knowledge flatly.

"Knowledge," Raven responded, equally flat. "So, where is everybody?"

"Why, they're where you put them. Away."

"I don't understand."

"Let's go to the center. It will make more sense if you see it."

Raven followed the avatar of her intellect to the center of her mindscape. It was a large stone amphitheater at what Raven thought of as the crossroads of her mind. They walked along the narrow walkway from Knowledge's library to where the amphitheater lay. The sky above was full of silver stars, but they were very dim, and far away. Over the edge of the rail-less walkway were more stars, equally distant and muted below.

"It's very quiet," Raven observed after a short time.

"Oh yes," said Knowledge, "You can't imagine how much work I've gotten done without all the constant requests for information the rest of them are just going to disregard, anyway. I can't thank you enough. I completely concur with the decision."

"What decision?" Raven asked.

"Why, our decision to shut them all up."

They crossed the rise, and there, in the amphitheater was a shibari kinbaku wet dream. There, at the center of the amphitheater were a dozen cages. Each cage contained a young woman about the age of nineteen. They were almost identical, save for the color of the leotard each wore. Each woman knelt, for the cages were far too small to stand in. Their legs were bound together at the calves, ryouashi gattai ichimonji shibari . Their arms were bound by wrist and elbow behind their backs, ushiro takate kote shibari. Perhaps the most intriguing were the gags. Each young woman wore a form fitting gag of stainless steel. It wrapped around her jaw, completely enclosing it, and ended just under her nose. An inflexible band came up just in front of the ears and wrapped around the top of the head of each woman. The women could barely move, and could not speak at all.

"Where's Wisdom?" asked Raven. "I'm interested to know why we haven't heard from her already. I would have thought she would have sharp opinions on this matter."

"Oh, you started with her. After that, it was Timid. Once you couldn't hear from any of your fears, the rest went quickly and easily, leaving only me."

"Efficient," remarked Raven.

"So, now what?" asked Knowledge.

"Well, I started this project because I didn't want to hurt Aqualad while we were having sex."

"I recall," said Knowledge. "Rather lackluster discoveries there."

"Well, at least now we know, and can file it," Raven replied.

"I suppose," she continued, "the next step would be to discern what we want to do with the rest of our lives."

"Our initial purpose was to bring Trigon to this plane. We rejected that. Do we wish to return to it?"

"No. We've made a careful and detailed study of the concepts of right and wrong, and clearly, Trigon, when extending his power, hurts people, which we have decided is 'wrong.'"

"Then," said Knowledge, "preventing hurt; preventing suffering, is 'right.' Is that correct, by our perception?"

"Yes. But sometimes, we hurt a few people so that we prevent many others from suffering," Raven continued. "That is why we can fight, even though we were raised a pacifist."

"So, hurting people is 'right,' in a good cause?" Knowledge asked..

"More like, 'minimize the most suffering for the greatest number,'" Raven answered. "That was why I proposed killing Arthur Light this afternoon. He is bound to escape again, and cause further suffering to untold victims. If we kill him now, it stops."

"I agree," said Knowledge. "Robin would say that 'anyone can change.'"

"Yes," said Raven. "How likely is Dr. Light to change?"

Knowledge opened her mouth to reply, but Raven interrupted.

"I don't need to know the odds, 'very, very unlikely' will do."

The Avatar nodded and said, "Very, very unlikely."

"It's pointless to continue this endless game of catch and release, and really, this logic applies to all villains. Plasmus, Slade, Mumbo-Jumbo. They are all factories of endless suffering."

"Good point. We should probably kill them all."

As they chatted casually, the two women walked down the line of cages. Most of the prisoners while similar to Raven in size and shape, were smaller than her. And gaunt.

"They look under-fed."

"Well, we haven't been feeding them. If we maintain them like this for a sufficient length of time, they will wither away entirely."

"A question," Raven began.

"Yes?"

"You're quite – calm. I mean, you've always been the rational one. But you're – dead calm. Flat."

"That's your doing. Just as you depend upon these for your 'feelings,' so did we depend on each other. For example, I can give you a discourse on the nature of humor. But without that one," she pointed to Happy, who lay collapsed against the wall of her cage, "I can't perceive funny. I don't miss it."

"I see. Well, we should probably proceed."

The women stood in front of a cage occupied by a Raven in a Rose/Lavendar leotard, who listened intently as they spoke. The two women spoke in increasingly colder and clinical terms, discussing grim actions with icy calm.

The girl in Rose coiled herself as best she could, threw her jaw forward, and sprang, hitting the bars in front of her with her head as hard as she could. The clanging thump rang up and down the amphitheater. Raven immediately grunted, and dropped to one knee.

"Uhhhh . . ." she said, screwing up her face. "No, wait."

She put down a hand to steady herself.

"Yes?" said Knowledge."

"Clang!" The prisoner hit the cage frame again. Making herself heard.

"This . . . this is all wrong! What are we _doing?"_

"Clang!"

"We've lost all perspective. All empathy."

"Well, If you will recall, Azar _did_ tell us to never, _ever _do this. We did it anyway. The techniques we were taught were to keep the aspects of your personality under control. Not completely isolated. We are all parts of the functional whole. Like any machine, we malfunction if you start taking away parts. "

"Clang!"

Raven grabbed her stomach in pain.

"I just didn't want to hurt him. Give me the keys."

"Raven," Knowledge said, "I'm you. You've _always _had the keys."

"Clang!"

Raven looked down, and there clutched in her free hand was a key-ring. She turned toward the nearest cage and stretched out the key. It happened to be Timid's cage. The Raven in gray's eyes flew wide and she shook her head wildly.

"Raven," said Knowledge, "I think . . ."

Nevermore is a funny place. Nothing there is real, except Raven's mind. _Everything_ is symbolic. Once Raven decided to open Timid's cage, she didn't need to insert the key. It was all a matter of intent. Raven's emotions were _powerful, _which was why she'd always been so afraid of them. And they wanted _out._ She touched the key to Timid's lock, and the cage exploded. Fragments from thecage shot in both directions and detonated each neighboring cage, which detonated their neighbors in turn, causing a chain reaction down the line.

In Titan Tower, in the common room, a low vibration ran through the room.

"What was that?" asked Robin. "Earthquake?"

"Sure felt like it," said Cyborg, leaping to the computer console. A map of the West Coast of North American sprang up on the wall screen.

"That's weird," said Cyborg. "Sensors indicate that . . ."

This time it was more than a rumble. The Tower shook on its foundations.

Cyborg continued, "Wow. That was _double_ the strength of the previous shock. Sensor indicate that epicenter of the quakes is _here! _3.9 on the richter scale._"_

"Jump City?" said Robin. "That makes sense, but . . ."

"No," Cyborg interrupted, "Not just here in the city . . ."

The Tower rocked again, "4.52 on the Richter scale, here in _Titan Tower._"

Starfire began to get a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Quick," said Robin, "Check the basement. Titans . . ."

"WAIT," said Starfire, with great urgency, "Where is Friend Raven?"

"I think she's in her room," said Robin.

The Tower shook again. Starfire said nothing else; she just flew for the stairs in a blur. The boys looked at each other. Changeling grinned. "A Starfire in motion outranks a Robin without a clue." The three boys pelted after her. When they got to Raven's door, the Tower shook again. They found Starfire pounding on Raven's door.

"Friend Raven, you must open the door now please! Let me in or I must tear open the door!"

"Wait Starfire," said Cyborg, "I can open it."

He began to urgently poke at the console. Meanwhile, Starfire set herself in the corridor just outside Raven's door. She braced one foot and both hands against the wall.

"When you open the door, I am going to take Friend Raven out of the Tower. Do not follow me; I do not think that she should see any males until after this storm has passed."

"Males?" said Robin. "Wait, what?"

"No time," Starfire replied. "Cyborg, open the door."

Cyborg popped the door open. Raven kneeled on the bed, buttocks on her heels, leaning forward with her weight on her hands. Her back was a flexed and her head thrown back. Her four eyes were wide open and glowing the color of fresh blood. Tears streamed down her face past her mouth, wide open in a series of screams of pain and fury. There was a band of dark energy in a circle about the room whirling in a clockwise cyclone of destruction. All of Raven's possessions had become caught up in the vortex and whirled around the room. As the Tower shook again, Starfire kicked off of the wall, shot over Raven's vortex, snatched her off of the bed, and shot out through the window, shattering it in her passing. The vortex vanished and Raven's possessions collapsed to the floor. Black lightning flashed in the sky as Starfire and Raven headed out to sea.

"Woah," said Changeling. "Mood-swing much?"

"Dude," responded Cyborg, "that was _no_ mood swing."

"Have you ever seen one like that?" Robin asked the older man.

"Nah. That was a world record."

"What?" asked Changeling. "What's wrong with Raven? What happened to her?"

"Only one thing can piss off a woman _that much,_" Cyborg said in response.

"Yep," said Robin. "A man."

"It's nothing that won't pass. But Raven's the scariest one I've ever seen," answered Cyborg.

"One what?" said Changeling, beginning to lose patience.

Robin told him, "It's from a play in the seventeenth century called "The Mourning Bride." Batman made me read it as part of my education while I was growing up. I know you've heard the second half of the quote. It starts out 'Heaven has no rage like love turned to hatred . . .'"

"'. . . nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.'" Finished Cyborg.

Changeling blinked. "Raven does _that_ when she has relationship issues?"

"Dude," said Cyborg, "_Somebody_ with tentacles was really hard on the heavy bag not too long ago."

"I didn't nearly knock the Tower off its foundations," Changeling retorted. "Never mind that. How do we help?"

"We don't," said Robin. "Unless you want to redirect _that_ onto _you,_ you'll back carefully away."

Cyborg nodded.

"C'mon guys. She's our friend."

Cyborg looked at the other two younger men. "Okay. There is _one _thing. It doesn't work for all women, and I have no idea how it will affect Raven. But if we _have _to do something, here's what we do . . ."

It had taken Raven no more than twenty minutes to vent her fury. Starfire had taken her to a small, uninhabited island not far off of the California coast. Her rage had utterly lacked focus, and the amount of damage to the landscape was surprisingly small. Shattered trees, churned up earth, broken boulders, and one really big crater. The shrieks had stopped quite some time ago, and the gasping sobs were subsiding.

Raven was on one knee, one hand on the ground, panting.

"It hurts," she said, her voice hoarse.

"I know," said Starfire, softly.

"He used me."

"Yes, he did."

Raven raised her head, and turned four scarlet eyes onto Starfire.

"You are supposed to be my friend. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Friend Raven, I tried to tell you at the beginning that he was 'the playah.' You could not hear me."

Raven's eyes faded to amethysts, and became merely two.

"You could have tried a little louder."

"No. That would have angered you, and your pride would keep you from listening to me now."

Raven panted again, then said, "You know a lot about this for a space alien."

Starfire smiled a sad smile. "Many of your earthly ways remain strange to me, but we are both females, and are not so very different."

"You trashed a building?"

"When I was trained by the Warlords of Okaara, there was a boy. I will not go into the details. They are 'the tawdry.' But when he chose a different training partner, my room was left in a condition not much better than yours."

She continued. "But I do not think I actually shook the building to its foundations."

Raven smiled a tiny smile that immediately faded.

"Why do they call it 'heartbroken' when it's your stomach that hurts?" she asked, rhetorically.

"Oh Azar," she said, as the thought her way through it, "I could have killed us all!"

"No," said Starfire, sharply. "You must not think such things."

"Starfire, I was completely out of control."

"Friend Raven, I grabbed you by against your will, threw you through a window and dragged you through the air for thirty or forty miles while you were raging. I was right there and you did not try to hurt me."

"Then why did you bring me all the way out here if you are so sure I wouldn't hurt anybody?"

Starfire paused. "Well, it was a precaution. But more important . . ."

"Yes."

"I am your friend-that-is-a-girl. We take care of each other, and I knew that you would not want the boys to see you looking so frightful. Your face it is all snotty and blotchy, you have the bags under your eyes, and your hair is a total wreck."

"You dragged me out of the tower because you thought I'd care how I looked."

"Well, yes. A girl should not gnaw on her own liver in public."

Starfire thought carefully. If there was any time she was going to change her friend's direction, it was now, when she was most open and most vulnerable. Raven was bright, but very stubborn. Then again, she would be more open to persuasion in a familiar environment.

"Friend Raven," Starfire asked, "Shall we return to the Tower now? We need to do the talking, and this rock is not very comfortable. Besides, you need to wash your face."

"I'd like to go home, Star, but you'll have to carry me. I can't focus to levitate. Oh Azar, it hurts."

And so she did. When they returned to Raven's window, they found the glass plate already repaired, a sparkling clean panel in the frame. It had been left open. Starfire flew in and set Raven on her feet.

The room inside was straight. The bed had been crisply made and the clutter sorted. Raven's books had been re-shelved except for a small plastic tub on the floor labeled "damaged." Her clothes had all been tossed into a laundry hamper.

"That's just as well," though Raven. "I'm having trouble picturing Robin and Cyborg folding my underwear."

Her sculptures were back on their plinths, in some places cracks glistened wetly with glue. She looked at the bookshelf. The books were in all the wrong order. But the bookcase had been mended. Raven didn't know what to think. A giggle came from the direction of her desk. She turned to look at Starfire.

"We live with the 'sensitive males.'"

"What?" said Raven, momentarily distracted.

"Here. Robin has left you a note."

"Raven –" Robin wrote, "We're sorry you feel so bad. Cyborg said we shouldn't touch your things, but Changeling and I outvoted him. We didn't want you having to come home to a" – the word "crater" had been scratched out, and replaced with "disaster." Robin continued. "We compromised and stacked things up to make it easier for you to put things back the way you want them. We're going on a guys-only roadtrip for the weekend. You and Starfire will have the Tower to yourselves. Kid Flash, Hot Spot, and Wildebeest are going to cover the city for us. See you Monday."

Starfire smiled. "I don't know if I should be angry at them for the stereotyping, or please they were thoughtful."

She pointed at Raven's desk. There lay a plate of cookies, a pot of tea in a warmer, and a small cooler with two pints of Haagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream. And two spoons.

"Ugh," said Raven, "I can't stand the idea of food."

"This truly is your very first heartbreak, is it not? Raven, this is not food, this is medicine. It is not so good as pudding of sadness, but human females swear by it."

She handed Raven a spoon.

"You must now start the bingeing."

Too weary to argue, Raven seized the spoon and dug into the chocolate ice cream. Surprisingly, she began to feel better. Maybe it was being back in her room. Maybe it was Starfire's steady presence. Maybe it was the complete lack of males in the Tower. Or maybe it was just the cold confection diluting the acid in her stomach. But she felt a little better.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Asked Starfire.

Raven hesitated. But she was exhausted, hurting, and tired of trying to deal with all of this alone. Starfire was supposed to be her emotional guide. It was stupid to hold back. Quietly, she began to speak. She poured out the whole story, and didn't skip a single detail. She finished with, "Please don't tell the guys."

"Friend Raven," Starfire began, "I do not wish to lecture you, but I have seen something I wish you to know. Will you let me share my observations with you?"

"All right," said Raven, guardedly.

"You are the smartest person I know. I will lay out some facts. I wish you to imagine a man."

"Starfire, I'd rather _not_ think about men just now."

"Now is exactly the time to think of this man. Listen. He is tall. He is suave. He has the 'bedroom voice.' He has the most fascinating eyes. He makes you feel warm inside. Wanted. He makes you feel beautiful. You change who you are for him. First just a little, then a lot. Then, when he has taken what he wanted from you, he drops you like the garbage into the can."

Raven's jaw dropped, and she slowly leaned her head forward until it rested on the lip of her ice cream carton.

"Malcior of Nal. I did it again. I fell for the _same guy._ The both did _exactly the same thing._ How could be so _stupid?"_ A tear ran down her face.

Starfire frowned. "Aqualad did not smash our home, threaten to eat us, attempt to eat _me_, and try to burn down the city . . ."  
Raven was staring at her. One eyebrow twitched. "Oh, but yes, both treated you the same way. Yes. That is what I wanted you to see. But you are not stupid."

"Then why?"

"I am not the therapist. But on my planet, many people have this problem, both males and females. They are attracted to people who are _bad for them._ Maybe it is the same here on Earth. I cannot tell you why this is, but it is so. I fear must be very careful which men you date."

"Small worry there. No more dating for me."

Raven applied herself to the ice cream some more until she noticed the total silence coming from Starfire's end of the bed. Starfire was staring at her with narrow eyes, lips pursed, and eyebrows pulled into a frown.

"If you say such a thing again, I will do the slapping of you silly."

"But . . ."

"Raven, do you remember what happened when you suppressed your fear of the 'Wicked Scarey?' Did you not _just now_ tell me the consequences of locking up all your emotions so tightly. You have much power Raven. You _must _keep your emotional balance."

"Ok, ok. Enough lecture. Can I swear off men for a week?"

The two friends spent the weekend indulgently lounging around in comfy pajamas, eating ice cream, and relaxing. Starfire insisted on a screening of "Steel Magnolias." Raven had been resistant at first, but eventually found the experience quite cathartic. She also learned that neither redhead NOR brunettes had the coloring for crying in public. Both were reduce to blotchy, snotty messes by the end of the funeral scene.

Which is not to say that Raven was all better right away. Crying jags would hit her without warning only to fade in a few minutes. After one such, she spoke quietly to Starfire.

"Part of the worst of it was my virginity. No matter what I do now, he will have always been my first. You only get one 'first.'"

"It is true," Starfire replied. "You have stepped in the vardle dung. And like vardle dung, it is going to leave a scar. But the scar shows that you are a woman who can step in vardle dung and survive. You are stronger for it."

"You can die from stepping in poop on your planet?"

"Well, you see, on my planet . . ."

"Stop. Never mind. I don't want to know."

Sunday afternoon, Raven found herself toying with her comset. Eventually she opened the case and pressed Robin's number.

"Hey Raven," he said.

"Where are you guys?"

"Oh, around."

Raven actually smirked. "You can tell Beast Boy and Cyborg it's safe to come home. I've stopped killing everything male in my vicinity."

"We'll see you guys for dinner. And Raven, I really am sorry."

"Thanks," she said.


	27. Nightmares

Author's Notes:

Shout Out's –

* * *

shugokage – Thanks. I hadn't thought of it as a breakdown, really. I hope I don't fall into a rut.

BoutsofInsanity42 – No sweat on the head's up. Your wish is my command. Glad you liked the read, sort of. And you have a point. I will be returning to Raven's fit in the near future and dialing up the horror. But first . . . well, the muse is upon me, and these characters are driving me to tell their story, and won't let me go backwards.

St Rhon – Thank you. You're right, of course. Lately I've been working Starfire like a rented mule. That wasn't the original plan, but having thought it through, how could I have thought it would be any different. Raven's in such an emotional knot, Starfire's gonna have to carry a heavy load. I mean, could you really see her confiding in Cyborg like this? Robin, maybe. But I hate writing him. He's such a pompous ass. Oh, and I was unaware that the Bat-clan has been placating Babs with chocolate. I was writing from life. I have several ladies in my life of varying ages and relationships and I've discovered that there are times when the shortest journey to calm involves the delivery of chocolate ice cream (Ideally gourmet, but any will do) and then backing slowly away.

dylanbiancamano – Thanks. I know the decision Raven chose isn't going to be universally popular. I'm glad you dislike Aqualad so much. I've done my very best to make him a total douche. He's got a couple more scenes, and ya'll going to discover that he can, in fact, go lower. And still remain a hero. Sort of. Thanks for your thoughts on the Friend Zone, too. Yeah. This is a fantasy. 99% of us don't get to climb out of that sucker.

Omeganian – I've set up an account over there, but apparently there's some verification. As soon as I get it sorted, I'll post our lemon and let those of you who are not minors know the link.

theluckyshot – Always glad to hear from you. I prove you right often? Well, I'm playing with tropes here, and they're kind of predictable. In fan fiction, it's not really about original ideas, but about how you execute them. Hopefully I'll be able to throw a surprise or two your way over time. As to the ups and downs of the story, I'm glad you like them.

The Fat Lantern – Thanks for reading. I don't run into many people these days who know the Allard name. You are well –traveled. The cross posting hasn't happened quite yet. But it will as soon as I can get my membership over there sorted. . . . But the ice is slippery.

Guest – How could I do that? I just sit down at my keyboard and I type what Raven and Changeling tell me to. Teenager do stupid things. (Mind you, so do us silverbacks. But we do DIFFERENT stupid things.)

JohnXGambit – Aw hell yeah. And he didn't even know to duck and cover. Fortunately, Starfire covered for them.

Paragon the Half-Dragon. – Up to bat? Actually, this chapter, Raven just LEAPS into his bed. He doesn't even so much as crook his finger at her. Although I don't know about the shooting fire. I think Raven could actually DO it, and that would be . . . uncomfortable for her paramour.

Victorthe3rd – Oh, Aqualad is down, but not out. There's more to be seen. We may yet see sushi. (Or is it sashimi?) I think the explosion needs more horror, although there's plenty of power there. And yeah, I'm glad so many people want to kick AL in the neck. Apparently, I'm writing him right. Too bad I have to add a single redeeming characteristic.

Hairul – No big surprise there. It comes from actually, you know, CARING about your partner, not your scorecard.

Sonicthehedgewolf – Thanks. As you can see, there's an update tonight, and I'm going to try to grunt one out this weekend, too. This has been fun, but these characters have taken over all my free time. I really have a life I need to get back to. So let's get on with this.

Katwizzle – Ma'am, nobody LETS Raven do ANYTHING. She's Raven. All I do is tell her story. I can't MAKE her eat when she's hungry, sleep when she's tired, or come in out of the rain unless it's what SHE wants to do.

Huntress – Sorry if it's a little predictable. I was told I needed to send Raven to Nevermore to talk to her emotions. The only tropes I'd seen were "Raven's emotions lay it out for her in no uncertain terms" and "Wisdom and Knowledge talk in mysterious quips because Raven has to figure it out for herself" and I wanted to try something different.

* * *

Okay – let's see. What news. In this chapter we have Raven in Changeling's bed. She makes all the decisions, and he doesn't really have to even invite her. There's begging involved. Or am I just messing with you again? (You'll note that I've never actually LIED to you in the author's notes.) We're also going to get ready for the annual Titan's Wide family Halloween party. We'll encounter women from Changeling's distant past.

Looking ahead, Aqualad has about two scenes left before he will depart, either to Steel City or Atlantis, never to trouble us more. I'm just not sure which yet. There will, of course, be a confrontation between Changeling and ol' Fish-Lips. Will there be violence? That remains to be seen. What sends away everybody's favorite source of sashimi will, I hope, surprise you. Raven will have her Road to Damascus moment. There's going to be a BIG fight. But now we're getting WAY down the road. Don't forget to post reviews – it's the only payment I get.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

The next three weeks were something of a mixed bag for Raven. She didn't see much of Beast Boy. There was _no_ teasing from any of the boys, for which she was grateful, but a little surprised. Work went well, at least at first. But there was a problem.

Raven's nightmares had returned. With a vengeance. Her conscience did not, apparently, appreciate being jammed into a small cage, and was making up for lost time. The first week it was only once a night. Then it became twice a night. When she cross the five hour a night line, her work started to suffer. She had a harder and harder time focusing. At the end of the third week, she was getting by on about four hours of sleep a night. She was still able to fight, but at this rate, she wouldn't have the focus or energy to levitate soon, let alone fly. After three weeks she began to think about the unthinkable. It was on the 23rd night that could take it no longer.

Raven woke up screaming for the fourth time that night. It was three o'clock in the morning. She'd had no sleep for two days to speak of. She sat up in the darkness of her room, her face in her hands. Her wet hands.

"Oh Azar," she cried, "My hands are really wet! My face is really wet!" She reached for the bedside lamp, her hands shaking. The tiny light bulb went on with a click and softly illuminated the room. Raven stared at her hands. Tears.  
"Just tears. That's all. No blood. Not their blood. Not his blood. Just tears. Water. Just a dream. Just a stupid dream."

She rose from her bed, muttering. She was desperate. She _had _to sleep. But she couldn't sleep. But she _had _to sleep. She stagger-walked around her bed and toward her door. There was sleep nearby. She was being stupid. He would fix it. He always fixed it. Raven's pride was nowhere to be found at three am when she'd had no sleep for almost three days, and little sleep before that. She stepped on silent barefoot across the hall and down to Beast Boy's door. Cautiously, she raised her tiny fist to knock on his door.

Tap-tap-tap.

Nothing happened. Raven shivered, standing on the metal corridor floor in her nightclothes. Changeling was not awake.

Raven leaned against the door-frame and tried the buzzer.

Inside his room, Changeling startled awake. Raven knocked again, louder.

Bam-bam-bam. Changeling looked at his clock. Almost three fifteen in the morning. The only person to ever show up in his room at this hour had been Raven. He smiled.

"Wouldn't that be a kick if it was her again," he thought.

He opened the door.

Raven stood there, his bedside table covering her in a pool of golden light in the darkness. Her feet were bare and she wore soft flannel pajama pants, white with small, dark blue birds on them. She wore a thick, soft, dark blue cotton top with spaghetti straps for her sleep shirt, the straps dark against her grey skin. Her purple hair was mussed cutely. Changeling took all this in in an instant. But it was her face that shocked him.

Her amethyst eyes were badly bloodshot. There were circles under her eyes that looked like deep bruises. Her cheeks were puffy and her face looked . . . haunted. She nervously rubbed shaking hands together.

"Um, can I come in, please?" she said.

Changeling heard Starfire's voice. "If you offer her comfort when her heart is broken, you will be as the friend-that-is-a-girl."

She closed her eyes and leaned on the door frame. "Please?" she said again, almost a whisper.

Changeling sighed. "Aw hell. Something's bad wrong. Hello girly-man," he thought, and reached forward and took her hands in his.

"Sure," he said, and pulled her into his room.

She sighed with relief. "Thank you. Listen," she said, rubbing her hands together with agitation. "I need a really, really big favor." She ran her hands through her hair, "No . . . I need your help."

"My God Raven, what's wrong?"

"Nightmares. Well, just one nightmare, over and over again. It's been going on for weeks. Well, longer even. I swear, I'll try and explain it all tomorrow. But please, can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Well, I mean, but, why . . .?"

She raised her voice, almost shouting. It was almost killing her to admit it to him, but _not _admitting it _was _going to kill her. Or someone. "Because you make my nightmares go away!"

She continued more softly. "It's been happening for years now. Except when we were in Siberia alone together, and when you had to sleep with me because of the glue. I don't know why. It doesn't make sense. But I feel safe with you, and it makes the bad dreams stop. Please, please, don't send me away. I'll come up with another solution tomorrow; I won'tbotheryouagainpleasepleasep lease . . ."

"Jesus," he thought, "I didn't mean to make her _beg . . ." _

He pulled her close in to his chest and stroked her hair.

"Stop," he said. "Shhhh. Just stop. Yes. It's ok. If you think it will help, you can sleep here tonight. It's no big."

They just stood there together. He put his head down on top of hers and her scent filled his nose.

"No," he thought. "Not even close to over her. Still doomed."

"Raven," he said aloud. "Do you need anything? I can make some herbal tea?"

"No," she said, "just don't leave me."

She looked around the room as he led her over to the bed. No clutter underfoot. Movie posters gone.

"No bunk beds?" she asked, blearily.

"No, those have been gone for a while. Ever since . . ." he trailed off.

"Ah," she remembered, "Mitzi, Fritzi, and Agnes."

They lay down together on his king-sized bed and she lay in his arms, her back to his chest, as tightly as she could press herself. Her body was like a guitar string, under heavy tension and about to snap at any moment. His arm draped over her as she closed her eyes. He listen to her breathe as she fell asleep. The tension started to leave her body slowly, and then all at once. Her breathing became deep and even. Slowly, carefully he lifted his arm from about her and turned off the light.

The next morning Raven opened her eyes. She looked around the room. It was far different in the daylight. The king-size bed dominated the room with its dark wooden headboard. Beast Boy's desk was still opposite the bed, but now it was clear of clutter. Only his keyboard, monitor, and mouse sat atop the desk. A shelf above it held a couple of technical manuals and a copy of _Travels in West Africa_ by Mary Kingsly. The movie posters were gone, except for a framed "Revenge of the Jedi" poster. The rest had been replaced by prints of the African savannah. Below the prints hung weapons, each matching the terrain in the territory above. A Zulu Assegai. A Congolese crescent sword. A Senegalese knob stick. The carpet was dark forest green while the walls were light brown. It was a very masculine room. Not a woman's touch to be seen.

"I feel better. Much better." She looked down. Her battleship grey arms were wrapped snugly around a green one. She stared, looking at the contrast. His arms were covered in hard, if slender muscles. Her were soft. The colors could not have been farther apart. She could also smell his scent. He smelled of soap and some kind of after shave, but very, very faintly. She exhaled.

"I hope," she thought, "this isn't too awkward."

Somehow, she always knew when he was looking at her.

"I know you're awake," she said.

From behind her, he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I was going to let you sleep longer."

"Thanks," she said. "You didn't wake me. I was waking up anyway."

With great reluctance she left her sanctuary and sat up. She turned to look at him and ran her one hand through her hair. "I probably look like a total harpy," she thought.

She blinked. "Where had _that_ come from?"

"So," she said, awkwardly, "You handle crazy women coming to your door in the middle of the night very well."

He smiled. "Thanks. I haven't had much practice."

"Except with me," she said with a small smile.

"So – nightmares," he said, expectantly.

Her smile faded.

"Uh-huh. It used to be only once a night, and some nights they didn't come at all. Since my little . . . snit, they've come every night, over and over again. Last night I was trying to function on three hours sleep out of seventy two, I think. And I just came apart."

"Sleep deprivation will do that. All work and no sleep make Raven go crazy. I'm guessing it's Trigon?"

"Sort of, but not exactly. I mean, he's there, but . . ." she stopped. She'd never said it out loud before.

"There are over _seven billion people _on the earth. When I became the Portal and Trigon came to earth, they all _died_, and it was my fault."

He frowned, "Raven, that's not fair. You . . ."

She cut him off. "I know the logic. It doesn't seem to matter. No amount of absolution you can give me will make any difference. I can't forgive myself. Such a crime is _monstrous._"

"Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood / Clean from my hand? - No, this my hand will rather / The multitudinous seas incarnadine, / Making the green one red."

She cocked her head at him. "MacBeth."

"I read a play once. Try not to faint."

She gasped, grabbed a pillow and hit him. "I'm pouring out my heart, and you're quoting Malcolm Reynolds at me!"

"Yeah, well, your voice isn't shaking anymore."

And it wasn't.

"Listen," she said, standing up, "I'm gonna go grab a shower. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll come up with . . ."

He abruptly put a finger to her lips, cutting her off.

"A pretty girl in my bed is _never_ a bother, no matter why she's there. I'm glad I could help. But I want you here by midnight tonight. Waking up at three to answer the door does suck."

"But . . ."

"Raven, you're the smartest woman I know. Don't be stupid about this. You're still exhausted. By tonight it will be worse. You've had this problem a long time, and it's not going to go away overnight. You can bunk with me until it's fixed."

"I'm not moving into your room."

"You don't have to. Just sleep here for a few nights until you get back on an even keel. Then we'll talk."

She hated to admit it, but he was making a lot of sense.

"Don't tell the others."

"A gentleman doesn't discuss such things."

With the turning of the seasons came an annual celebration that Raven had come to really dread. The annual Titan's Halloween party.

"At what point," she asked herself, "will we be old enough to quit playing dress-up?"

But Starfire and Beast Boy loved hosting the extravaganza, thinking up costume, decorating, and choosing the theme. This year's theme was "Villains – No Jokers." They hadn't wanted Robin running anyone in a dark corridor and beating the crap out of them out of sheer reflex. She usually picked up a costume at random from a rental shop, greeted everyone, and then fled to her room. But this year – Aqualad was going to be there. No way to keep him off of the guest list. And she wasn't going to set foot in the same room with him.

She'd expected more sympathy from her friends, but they were of the "get back on the horse" school of thought. They huddled by the table, conspiring, as though she didn't know what they were talking about from her position on the couch.

"Hey, if she won't come, she won't come," said "Cyborg. I just hate to see the jerk run her out of her own living room."

Starfire tapped her chin, thoughtfully. Of all the Titans, she had yet to approach Raven.

Star looked at the boys. "Raven will attend. I shall fix it," she said with great confidence.

The redhead stood and walked across the room. She paced around behind the couch and leaned over the back, whispering in Raven's ear.

Raven's slammed her book shut and whipped her head around, presenting Starfire with four eyes the color of old blood. Starfire held her ground and looked Raven in, well, among the eyes. The red glow faded.

"You're going to have to excuse me. I need to be alone."

"Going to meditate?" asked Cyborg.

"No," said Raven, through clenched teeth. "The mall."

She dropped her book on the couch, drew herself up, and phased from the room in a swirl of dark energy.

"Wow, Star," said Robin. "What did you say to her?"

"I merely pointed out that by hiding in her room she was demonstrating how much power Aqualad had over her. I also said that by conceding her own living room to him, she was making his victory over her complete. Then I pointed out that he would brag of this among other men."

"Wow," said Robin.

"You sure do play hardball, "added Cyborg.

Starfire coolly reached for a jar of mustard and stuck a straw in it.

"There is a time among friends-that-are-girls for the crying on the shoulder. And then there is the time for the kicking-of-the-butt." She drank.

Raven phased in over Titan Tower and then flew like an arrow to the mall to the sky above Stylistica, then phased into the store.

She appeared before Jane in a swirl of dark power.

"Aaaaah!" shouted Jane, and the double-handful of jeweled hair sticks she was carrying flew through the air in a glittering fountain.

"Raven, you startled me. What's with the dramatic entrance? Doors not good enough anymore?" She smiled.

Raven did not return her smile. "Halloween costume party. Eight days. Ex-boyfriend. Help me!"

Jane frowned, and her eyes narrowed. "Total war, then? How far are you prepared to go?"

Raven considered, and set her jaw like a space marine. "All. The. Way."

Jane smiled again. It wasn't a very pleasant smile. "I don't get to go all the way very often. Well, not like that."

She extended her hand.

"C'mon honey. We're gonna make him eat his heart out with a spoon!"

Raven followed her out of the storefront and into the private work area in the back.

Changeling had seen the look on Raven's face as she phased out the room. This was going to be interesting. He should do . . . something interesting, too.

"Come as a villain. No Jokers allowed."

He thought for a moment, and then a wicked grin spread across his face.

"This," he thought, "Is gonna be fun."

He rooted around in his desk, checking out his old paperwork. Papers from a _long_ time ago. Eventually he found was he was looking for: a paper address book.

"I hope this number still works."

He dialed a number in the greater Los Angeles area code.

The phone rang and rang. There was a click and a woman's voice, rattled the receiver. Low and husky.

"Hello Nichelle," Changeling said. "It's me, Garfield."

The phone made an interrogative noise.

"Don't start with me lady, or you'll find a green snake in your costume rack _again. _It's Garfield Logan and I know damn well you remember me," he laughed.

The phone made some more noises, softer this time.

"Well, of _course_ I'm calling because I want something. You're in Hollywood, aren't you?"

More noise.

"No, I'm not looking for work. I'm out of the biz. You know that. I was typecast as a green shape shifter. I'm in the hero biz now."

"What I'm calling about is that I need Jamille's number."

Sharp noises from the phone.

"No love, I want to _exploit_ your daughter, not marry her."

Laughter from the other end.

"Because I'm looking for drop-dead gorgeous, and I've heard that she looks just like you did, ten years ago."

More low, husky noises. "Thanks," he said, writing down a number.

He immediately called. "Hey Jamille, it's Garfield. Long time no see. How'd you like an opportunity to strut your stuff in Jump City at an A-list party?"

"'Long time no see,' indeed," said the young woman at the other end of the line, "But not so long that I don't recognize your 'I'm up to something, and it's going to be really cool' voice. The last time I listened to you I ended up topless in the dolphin tank at Sea World surrounded by security guards."

"Now is that any way to talk to an old playmate? Besides that only happened once, and I _said_ I was sorry. I thought the door on the fish truck and the bungee cords were stronger than that."

"So . . . what are you up to?"

"It should be fairly harmless this time. It's a costume party and all the Titans are going to be there. I've got a _great_ idea for a costume, but it calls for _really_ hot arm candy, and when I think of really hot arm candy, I think of you."

"Flatterer. I've already got plans for Halloween, but you intrigue me. Speak on."

"Oh, and I need you to find an equally hot friend to meet the following specifications – "

Jamilla had sputtered at that, but as she listened to his idea, she became more and more intrigued.

Raven looked in the full length mirror in the private fitting room at Stylistica. She blinked. Jane was a certifiable genius, and the outfit was one that Raven would be able to "pull off perfectly." There was only one problem.

"Jane," she said sadly, "There's no way I'm going to be able to assemble this make up and stuff by myself."

"That's okay sweetie," Jane replied. "For ex-boyfriend emergencies, I make house calls."

"You'd do that?"

"There will be a check involved, but yes. For ex-boyfriend emergencies, I can be a dresser."

Raven looked in the mirror and smiled a cold little smile.

"Can you do the finishing touch like we said?"

"It will take a little practice, but yes. It's easy compared to some of the other stuff I do."


	28. Halloween - and a Change of Direction

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs:

BBLover – Good to hear from you. I love sending these kids to parties. If they were a little older, I'd add alcohol and watch everything boil over. But it's still fun. I hope you enjoy the party.

Densharr – Glad you're still with me. Yeah – Joss Whedon's dialogue is the BEST place to steal from.

Shugokage – Changeling is due a break. He's falling back on some OLD skills and relationships.

Sergeant Daniel – Sorry for the interruption. I got it out as quickly as I could stuff it on the page.

TTndAvatarFan – Suspense? Really. And here I thought I didn't do cliffhangers. I wonder how big a cliffhanger I could do if I put my mind to it.

Guest (Callback to Chapter 2) – Exactly. They were sparring and Robin underestimated his opponent.

Lord Vokodlak – Patience my friend. All shall be made clear, and soon.

Omeganian – It will probably involve sushi rolls.

JohnXGambit – Sometimes, a man's gotta stand.

NicoletteSchmidt – It should be quite the gathering. I hope not to disappoint. And yeah. I edited the line down a little. I thought it got too wordy. It was originally. "Hey, that only happened once, it wasn't my fault, and I said I was sorry."

yumiulrichlovers – So I should be doing all the work? Start reviewing! (Kidding) They are both going to take the same approach to the party. It's all about hotness and making a great entrance.

Shadico – Nah. Even Changeling can't lose them all. He's due a break.

dylanbiancamano – I hope so. It was 3:30 in the morning before the Titans let me go to bed last night. It better have been worth it.

Victorthe3rd – If Raven gets pissed after this effort, I'm gonna give Changeling PowerGirls phone number and say to hell with this.

Katwizzle – Well, if you're reading this, you know it's ready. I hope it's worth the antici . . . . pation.

Alister Nightfoot – Oh, Fishlips' gonna have a bad evening, and it's only gonna get worse later.

Hairul the Nightrage Beast – While your approach would be deeply viscerally satisfying, I think my alternative, provided below, will prove equally cathartic, and will involve lower carpet cleaning bills.

* * *

Okay – let's see. First of all, this one turned out exactly how my vision for it went. There are some awkward parts where Cyborg's operating system starts reporting in, and the dialogue doesn't flow as well, but I love the idea of his systems talking to him, so I left it in even though it's not my best prose. This chapter gets you Raven in a dress, Beast Boy in a dinner jacket, and the sleaziest trumpet and saxophone music your imagination can provide you. I apologize in advance for the jerking around Raven gives you in this chapter. But I think you're going to like how it turns out. And, finally, there is another bit of dialogue done in "Guy." For women, the translations are immediately below, and in italics.

Looking ahead – General Immortus and a vast army of cybernetically enhanced Zombies. Introspection by Jynx. The back of Fishlip's favorite head being tapped against a bulkhead. Several times.

* * *

Starfire stood on the upper concourse looking down at the common room of Titan Tower. She and Changeling had outdone themselves this year. Cyborg had been very helpful, but the common room was _most _creepy. All of the modern equipment that normally beeped, blinked, and chirped in the common room had been covered by dusty white sheets. The floor had been carefully covered with tattered, moth-eaten rugs of the Persian kind. Old, heavy wooden furniture had been borrowed and placed around the room. The ceiling was hung with dusty, grimy class chandeliers. The paint on the walls appeared to be peeling away, revealing old-fashioned plaster and lath behind it. Starfire was unsure how Cyborg had managed that. There was no plaster anywhere in the Tower. The giant picture windows were now divided into many panes of glass that threw stark shadows across the room when lightning lit the skies outside. Over all lay the subtle scent of dust, mildew, and decay.

"It is marvelously creepy," she thought, grinning.

With so much going on, Starfire had not had the time she would normally put into her costume, so she had dyed her hair and one of her outfits black, and stuck in a pair of purple contact lenses. Add a tin Supreme Rules of Tamaran coronet, and she was her own sister, Black Fire.

"It is the lame, but I can hardly wait to see what the other Titans wear!"

The door slid open behind her. She started to turn when she heard the heavy thump of a mechanical foot on the floor. Then another.

"Cyborg," she said, turning.

She faced a nightmare. It had a death's head for a face. Its exposed bones were stainless steel. A mouthful of shining steel teeth leered at her from atop its shoulders. Its eyes glowed a malevolent red as it strode out of the elevator, reaching for her.

"Eeeek" she shouted, and threw a starbolt at it.

The thing moved with unearthly speed, dodging out of the way. The starbolt exploded in the hallway behind it.

"Glad I saw that coming, Star," it said in Cyborg's voice.

"Cyborg? It is you?" she said. "What villain is that?"

For, looking closer, she could see now that it was her friend. He wore not a costume, but a paint job. Someone, probably Cyborg himself, had painted him.

He smiled, revealing his real teeth behind the painted on steel teeth. "I took the covers off of all of my mechanisms, and then airbrushed the rest on."

"But who . . ." Starfire started.

A voice sounded from behind her. Flat, and unemotional

"He's taking advantage of a loophole in the system, Ms. Anderson."

Starfire turned. In front of her was a lean, middle-aged man. He wore a tailor made suit, black tie, white shirt, and dark sunglasses. In his right ear was an earpiece, connected to something in his suit by a coil of wire. His hair was slicked straight back and down.

"Ms. Anderson, Mister Cyborg has chosen not to portray a real villain, but like myself, take advantage of a bug in the system, and portray a villain from filmed entertainment."

"That's right," said Cyborg. "I am a first edition, mint condition, Cyberdyne Systems T-300 Terminator! From the movie of the same name."

"While I," continued Robin, in a flat tone of voice, "Am Agent Smith, from _the Matrix_, also a cinema classic."

"You went for Smith because you could integrate the sunglasses in to your costume, didn't you Rob?"

Robin grinned, breaking character. "Sure! So um, where are Changeling and Raven."

"They are still doing the primping. I suspect Changeling wishes to make 'the entrance.'"

The three Titans began to greet their guests as they came in. One by one the room began to fill as the sun went down. Cyborg lowered the lighting in the room and started the music.

"I'm beginning to get worried about our other friends. The party is about to go into full swing and there's no sign of . . ."

The music cut off completely and the room went dark except for three figures in the door way. Slowly the lights came up. The young man in the center was obviously Changeling. He wore a tailored white dinner jacket, white shirt, black slacks, and black bow tie. Sort of. The outfit was bifurcated down his midline. On his left, it was a white dinner jacket and black slacks. On the right it was a black dinner jacket and white slacks. The tie was solid black, though.

He wore a white fedora, with a black band. Head down, his face was utterly obscured in the light. Slowly, he raised his head, tipping back his hat to reveal his face. His midline continued up through is hairline. The right side of his face was normal, while the left was a mass of scars. Whoever had built the scars, though had worked very hard on the effect. Rather than random, inflamed red knobs and a distorted eye, the scar tissue matched the green tone of his skin. The scars swept up toward his ear and forehead, pulling his upper lip into a slight sneer, exposing one gleaming white fang, and the scarlet gum tissue immediately above it. The scars also pulled the corner of his eye and eyebrow up, giving him a slight frown on that side. He looked – roguish. Rakish. Dangerous.

The woman clinging to his left arm was African-american, and built like the proverbial brick house. She was under six percent body fat and proportioned like a swimsuit model. She had classical features and wore her hair in a natural afro clipped fairly close. Her white silk dress had a high collar but with the neckline was cut away to show a lot of cleavage, and left her left arm bare. The dress flowed down her body like quicksilver, clinging to her every curve.

On his other side was a Nordic beauty. Her hair was long, past her shoulders. Her eyes were cornflower blue and he complexion that of marble. Her dress, also silk, was black, and plunged between her high breasts to a point just short of scandalous. Like her counterpart, she was curvy, and the dress hugged her like black flames. In the doorway, the two women struck a short pose, revealing that the dresses were slit _high_ on the hip.

From one side, Herald's voice rang out. "Presenting, _Two-Face_, and his companions, Sugar, and Spice.

The three then strode together down the stairs. The music started up. But someone had changed the track. It started low, and slow. Sleazy saxophones and trumpets. A slow, sensual beat.

At the foot of the stairs, Changeling stopped. He took a heavy coin out of his pocket and flipped it into the air, catching it. And a he flipped it again.

_The minute you walked in the joint,  
I could see you were a man of distinction._

The threesome walked slowly across the room, all eyes on them.

_A real big spender,  
Good looking, so refined.  
Say, wouldn't you like to know  
What's going on in my mind?_

With each step the women exposed four inch heels. They continued their languid walk across the large room, Changeling flipping his coin expertly. The trumpets continue to growl.

_So, let me get right to the point,  
I don't pop my cork for ev'ry guy I see.  
Hey, big spender, spend...  
A little time with...me._

The threesome ended up on the far end of the hall. There was a round of applause and laughter as the music returned to regular fare.

"Man," said Cyborg, "_That_ was an entrance. And who are these charming ladies?"

Changeling grinned a toothy grin. He gestured to the black girl. "This, is Jamille."

Jamille smiled a million-watt smile and spoke in a low contralto, "Hi! It's great to meet you."

Her voice was like honey on sandpaper. Rough but sweet.

And _this_, is Aelfgiva. She's from Sweden.

Aelfgiva's voice was higher, and pure, like glacial runoff.

"Hello." She smiled. She had no accent at all.

"Listen, Gar," said Jamille, "We're gonna hit the drinks table and circulate. Catch you for a dance, later?"

He grinned a toothy grin, "You bet!"

He, Cyborg, and Robin watched with great appreciation as the two young women walked away, headed for the refreshments.

"Man," said Cyborg, "You're making a statement. _Two_ dates for _one _party?"

Changeling snorted. "It's not like that. I've known Jamille since we were kids. Her mom was on the cast of _Space Trek: 1999_ with me back in the day. We used to play together on the set between takes. Aelfgiva is a friend of hers. They work for the same modeling agency. In return for making that entrance with me, I promised them a room full of super-heroes, at least half of whom would be single. Two categories in which you, Cyborg, qualify."

Cyborg looked across the room. "You know, I think I'll go see if our guests need any help with the drinks."

Robin looked across the room and frowned. "Well, he's here."

Changeling flipped his coin again and looked. Aqualad was making his entrance, blissfully unaware that he was following Changling's carefully choreographed performance. It really wasn't too bad. If he'd had a chance to go first, it would have made an impression. He wore a custom-tailored tuxedo. This one had pinstripes. He carried an umbrella in one hand, a long cigarette holder in the other, and a top hat added to his already considerable height.

"The Penguin," said Robin. "Not much of a stretch is it?"

"He does look quite the dapper in the tuxedo," Starfire observed.

Robin's face twisted up like he'd bitten a lemon.

"Let's get some food."

In an alcove outside the door, Raven waited with Jane behind a wall of dark energy.

"Why am I going in so late?" asked Raven.

"Sweetie," Jane replied, "Your entrance is going to be the most powerful body blow you're going to land all night. If he isn't there, it's wasted. You saw him go in."

"Yes," Raven said in response. "Did you _see_ those two women Changeling went in there with? I can't do this."

"Raven," Jane said sharply. "They're models. They wear clothes for a living. I don't know them, but I know their type. You, on the other hand, are the real deal. Queen of Darkness and the Night. Man up, girl. You can handle this."

The wall of dark energy vanished and they stepped to the door.

"All right Raven, finish it."

Raven concentrated, and manifested her power.

Herald turned to look and his jaw dropped. Jane whispered in his ear.

"Aw, hell yeah," he said, with enthusiasm. And he proceeded to elaborate on Jane's rather simple suggestion. He seized his trumpet and blew a two tone blast, bringing the party to a screeching halt. All heads turned to the door.

"My lords and ladies, pray attend. Harken as I present unto thee, the Ruler of the Unseelie Court, the Winter Lady, Empress of the Night, Magestrix of the Ice and Snow, Maab, the Queen of Air and Darkness!"

Raven wore a satin dress the color of glacial ice. Jane had refused to let her wear any underwear at all, and it clung to her every curve like a crystal of water over rocks in a streambed. The satin whispered against her skin as she moved, alternately hiding and revealing her shape underneath it. Her grey skin had been carefully powdered to shade its tones to match the dress. It was hard to tell where Raven ended and the dress began. The blue-white sequins Jane had glued over her eyebrows glittered like ice crystals as they swept up toward her hairline. They'd dyed her hair, well, Raven-black, then rinsed it three times so that her natural purple highlights showed through like streaks in an Alaskan glacier. Raven's cheek bones, temples, and orbital sockets had all been made up with great care. With grays, whites, and ice-blues, the makeup suggested that Raven's face had been sculpted from an iceberg. Her lips were the color of frozen raspberries. Her dress had short sleeves and the straps were off the shoulder, leaving her shoulders and upper chest bare. The neckline ran straight across, lower than Raven was really comfortable with. Her skirt fell to the tops of her low heels, but was slit to the hip on both sides, mandarin style. On her head she wore a glittering tiara, and from her back projected two fairie wings of dark energy the color of endless night.

These had been the final touch. Jane had planned on white silk wings on wire frames, but when Raven had shown her the dark energy, and Jane had insisted. She'd crafted the wings to suggest they were made of snowflakes, or ice crystals. Normally Raven was trying to cut, smash, or move something with her dark energy, and it was a dull black, only showing white where two planes of energy met. But with a little practice she was able to get it to present as a polished surface that somehow seemed to glitter while still absorbing all of the light around it. They were intricate and delicate-looking, with many, many geometrically complex white lines through them. She'd actually enjoyed the math setting up all the fractals the project had required.

The room stayed dead silent. There was a small clatter as Aqualad dropped his umbrella. Then his cigarette holder. His monocle fell out of his eye. And across the room there was a clear, silver ringing sound as a heavy coin fell to the floor, unnoticed.

Raven swallowed nervously. At least she wasn't going to have to walk in these heels, low as they were. She kicked off of the stairs and levitated across the room. As she passed, a wave of dark energy flowed quickly across the room, leaving everyone shivering ever so slightly. Raven's powers weren't actually cold, but any touch of the dark energy left people with a psychic chill. The levitation wasn't quite as impressive in a room full of people one in any three of whom could fly. But it still looked good. She glided to a halt next to Robin and took the drink out of his hand while he gaped at her.

The glass frosted over.

"Okay," he said, shaking his head. "How'd you do that?"

Raven's wings vanished as she turned to sip the drink while observing the room. She waved her free hand at him.

"Parlor trick. Cyborg built me a ring with refrigerant in it. It only works once. I decided to use it for my entrance."

The West Coast Titans circulated around the party, playing host. They greeted people they hadn't seen in a while, shook hands, danced with friends, and tried to make sure that everyone had a good time. But eventually, no matter how hard she tried, Raven wasn't able to avoid the encounter. He'd managed to intercept her while she was crossing the dance floor.

"Hi Raven," said Aqualad.

She screwed up her face. "Hello," she said, flatly.

"Can I have this dance?"

It was so much like the beginning of their relationship. It brought back a lot of memories. And feelings.

She licked her lips.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Don't be like that." He gently grasped her elbow.

Cyborg looked up from where he was talking with Aelfgiva and noticed Raven's situation. "Aw hell no," he thought. His blood pressure shot up and his pulse began to rise.

Cyborg's internal operating system advised him: "Physiological changes indicate combat imminent. Powering up offensive systems."

Aelfgiva jumped as the Terminator's right arm began to buzz with power.

"He's so very tall," Raven thought, and remembered the feel of his hands on her body. Her pulse began to pound in her ears, just like before. She looked into his mysterious black-on-black eyes and licked her lips again. "People change," she thought. "Maybe . . ."

Cyborg heard from his OS again as his automated systems continues to respond to his body's instinctive response to what he was seeing. "Targeting system now on line."

Suddenly a targeting reticule threw cross hairs over the vision in his cyber eye. He was about to put on his murderin' face and stride out, when his offensive targeting system caught something flitting through the air in a high lob. His head whipped around to see the incoming missile.

The 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition $50 coin was the heaviest coin ever minted by the US Mint. It weighed 83.572 grams and Changeling had chosen it because it flipped well and rang loudly when dropped. This one struck Aqualad square across the bridge of his nose, then fell to the floor, ringing as it spun to a halt.

"Ow, shit!" he said, grabbing his nose with his free hand.

Raven shook her head, sharply, taking a deep breath.

"Is there something wrong?" Aelfgiva said to Cyborg.

"I'm not sure," he said, grinning. But I think we're about to get some unscheduled entertainment.

"Offensive systems now in standby mode."

Changeling, Aqualad, and Raven once again stood at the center of a dance floor. It had been five months, and a _lot_ had changed.

Changeling smiled tightly and spoke. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid that the lady's dance card is full tonight. She's with me."[1]  
_"I told you once before. That's __mine.__ Hands. Off."_

"Really," said Aqualad. He lifted one lip in a slight sneer. "Seems to me that she can decide who she wants to dance with."  
_"Runt. Are we going have to do this again? It's not yours if you can't keep it._"

Changeling smiled again. This time he showed both his upper and lower fangs. Raven noticed that he no longer had the needle sharp teeth of a puppy. His fangs were rounded over. Like a wolf.

"She already has. She's with me."  
_"Oh, we're so gonna do this again. You move that damn hand, or by fang and claw, you __will__ pull back a bloody stump. Understand – I no longer care about what she wants. I no longer care about getting arrested. This is all about __you_ _and __me.__ Now. Move. Your. Hand."_

Then something different happened. Something hadn't happened at the Solstice gala. The atmosphere in the room became _dangerous._ Changeling hadn't moved. He hadn't shouted. He didn't clench his fist. But the room suddenly felt like the high mountains the morning after a blizzard, before the avalanches come. Robin felt it first. Not so subtlety he instinctively put himself between the two men and Starfire.

The hired bartender felt what was on the wind. "Oh shit," he said, and began taking classes down from the shelves behind his portable bar and putting them down below.

Over by the wall, Cyborg said "Uh oh," turned to Aelfgiva and said, "'Scuse me. Be back when I can," and headed for the center of the dance floor, not quite running, but walking with a purpose, hoping he could get there before there was a pesco-cide in the middle of his living room floor. All around the room, men turned to face the two in the center.

Black-on-black eyes locked with emerald green. The room grew more quiet.

Suddenly, Aqualad blinked. "Whatever," he said, turning. "Enjoy your sloppy seconds," he muttered as he turned away. It would have been okay if he'd faced any other man.

Changeling had the hearing of a cat. Of an owl. And he heard every word.

He snarled and stepped out. His pupils began to contract and his jaw began to lengthen. Coarse, dark hairs popped out of the back of his hands and his spine began to twist. He took another step, only to be jerked to a sudden halt by a tiny hand on his arm that stopped him just as surely as if it had been an anchor in concrete. He turned and looked at Raven, who looked into his white, pupil-less eyes.

"I thought you said we were going to dance."

He looked up at Aqualad's retreating back. The moment had passed. His body relaxed and returned to normal. He put one hand into the small of her back, and took her hand with the other, sweeping her into a waltz.

"The music still isn't a waltz," she said.

"It's still the only one I know," he replied, smiling.

They swung around the floor for several minutes, unspeaking.

"I'm going to have to sort out the knots in my head soon," she said "I'm a together, independent woman of the new millennium. Continually getting rescued is beginning to get tedious. I'm not some princess in a tower. I'm Raven."

"Oh, I wasn't rescuing you. That was _all_ about me."

"You still saved me from doing something stupid. Again."

"Then you are welcome for your incidental, entirely coincidental rescue."

They danced some more. As they swung through the crowd, Raven looked at her dance partner and friend. Really looked at him for the first time in a long time.

"He's no longer funny looking. He doesn't have Batman's classic good looks, but he's turned out cute."

"So," she said, after a while, "I guess I'm sleeping back in my room tonight?"

He looked down at her. "Pissed? What did I do now?"

"No," she answered primly, "I'm not pissed, but I saw your dates. You have a big bed, but there's no way to fit all four of us are going to fit in it."

"Oh, I don't know," he grinned. "All you have to do is – ow!"

Somehow, without missing a step in their dance, Raven had managed to kick him in the shin.

"I'm _not_ sharing our bed with you and your super models."

He grinned toothily. "Oh, so it's _our_ bed now, is it?"

She flushed maroon, and looked away. "You know what I mean," she muttered.

He just kept grinning. It was a good night.

"It's not like that," he said. "Like I told the others, I've known Jamille since we were kids,"

And he once again told the story of his attendants that night.

"Really?" she asked.

"Sure. Check it out," and he spun her to see Cyborg and Aelfgiva leaning _very _close together on the couch. He had removed his Terminator makeup and she was sitting within the circle of his arm. She was looking up at him intently.

"Woah," said Raven. "I hope she knows what she's getting into. He weighs over a seventh of a ton. And does he even _have _a . . ."

Changeling spun her again, while interrupting, "I don't know. He hasn't said, and I'm sure as hell not gonna ask. Guy thing."

Jamille was holding court. Jerico, Herald, Speedy, Thunder, and Lightning were all clustered around her, enthralled.

"So you see," he said, "I only have _one_ date tonight."

"So – I'm your date now," she said, a dangerous tone in her voice.

"Yup," he said, utterly unintimidated.

There was another pause.

"I'm . . . surprisingly ok with that."

And she laid her head on his shoulder.

Raven had not had an evening quite like it before. They talked, they laughed, both with their friends and alone together in corners. And when they danced, she was deeply, intensely aware of his hand on her back through the satin dress. It almost burned her.

She was having a great time, but as the evening grew late and the party began to thin out, Raven began to become tense. And she knew why. She wasn't . . . afraid of what was coming. Just, unsure. She's made a lot of mistakes recently. Mostly from being impulsive, and then unwilling to reconsider her decisions. Starfire was right. She needed to be more careful. She closed her eyes. This was going to suck.

Cyborg had already vanished with Aelfgiva hours earlier. The last guest had either departed or retreated to the guest rooms low down on the habitat level. The team were turning off lights and stacking dishes.

"I'm done," said Robin. "This can wait 'till tomorrow." He caught Starfire by the hand and they headed to the habitat ring.

Raven sighed, and looked over at her date.

"I . . . guess that leaves us."

"Hey, I'm not gonna be up here washing dishes in the middle of the night if Cyborg and Robin get to be off . . . sleeping or . . . something. He's right. This can wait."

He put down the stack of dishes, caught her by the hand and headed for the door. Raven fidgeted silently in the elevator and as they walked down the hall together.

When they got to his door, she stopped him. He turned, quizzical and waited.

She reached up to him, put her hands behind his neck and pulled. Obediently, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. His tounge parted her lips and explored her own. He tasted like wilderness. Like open desert. Her heart pounded and she dug her blunt cut fingernails into the back of his neck. His scent was of musk, and leather, and the faintest fading hints of aftershave. His cheek was coarse againt her skin.

She jerked her mouth free as her knees threatened to buckle.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"That's was great. But that's going to have to be enough. At least for tonight. I can't. I'm not. That is."

He turned her chin up and looked her in the eyes. "Raven? What are you blathering about?"

She took a deep breath, "Oh please don't be mad," the thought. "Please understand."

"I know that we've been friends forever. But I've changed. You've changed. And we're changing."

"Oh," he said, smiling, "there's a 'we' now?"

"Shut up."

She went on, looking down.

"I . . . like the direction things are going. I like what I'm feeling tonight. But it's too much. It's too fast. It's too soon. I've made a lot of stupid mistakes this year. Mostly from being careless, impulsive, and not thinking things through. And since I don't want to be a 'tease,' I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight.

Changeling closed his eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads tapped together gently.

"Raven," he said gently, "I'm a teenage boy. I live my entire life in a state of 'teased.'"

She snorted.

"What you've said," he went on, "Makes a great deal of sense. It's clearly very carefully considered, mature, and a wise decision. Therefore: no."

She shook her head, "Wait, what?"

He didn't speak, but reached down, seized her waist in both hands, and threw her over his left shoulder. He pinned her there with his left hand while he operated the door control.

"Put me down," she sputtered. She hammered her tiny fists against his lower back. "Put me down or I'll . . ."

He flung her onto his bed. She landed, legs fetchingly askew, her satin dress up to her knees. The sequins on her heels glittered in the room's low light.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"It's like this," he said, voice full of warmth and good humor.

"Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life. If I let you go through that door, we both know that the odds of you having one of your nightmares is better that six of seven. After all that's happened to night, I'm not going to be able to sleep with the idea that imaged of my blood running down your face and hands is the next step for you. That's not gonna be the capstone for either of us tonight."

She was hit in the face with an oversize T-shirt.

"Put that on. I'm not letting you out of my site. If you fort up in your room, I'll have to tear that armored door out of the frame, and that would wake the entire Tower. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

She pursed her lips. This was not at _all_ the response she'd expected.

She slid to the edge of the bed, her satin skirt riding up her legs.

"Okay," she said, having not been looking forward to the nightmares, either. "But I don't want to hear a single word about 'blue balls.'"

"That's okay, Raven," he said, still rooting around in a drawer. "You couldn't be a tease if you wanted to. It's not in your nature."

Raven froze.

A satin ribbon hung from the zipper tab of her gown. It was there so that she could reach and upzip herself without need a dresser at the end of the evening. She caught at it with one hand, while a whisper of dark energy cut it from the zipper tab. She tossed it to the floor and kicked it under the bed with a bejeweled foot.

"Beast Boy," she said, dropping her voice as deeply as it would go, "Unzip me."

He turned from the chest holding a pair of shorts and a T-shirt for himself, to find her with her back to him, next to the bed. She stood there, one knee bent, hip cocked, with her sequined shoes glittering, her satin dress clinging to her hips.

"Um, sure," he said. He stepped over to her and reached for the zipper tab. As he pulled it down, she leaned forward, and the tight satin separated, exposing the soft skin of her muscular, well-toned back. No bra-strap, and then on down. The zipper ended just above the crack of her ass, revealing her birthmark and the dimples on either side of it.

"Thanks," she said, huskily.

"No, uh, problem."

She pulled the big t-shirt over her head and down to her waist, and proceeded to skin out of her dress under the t-shirt, _Flashdance _style.

"Well, crap," she said. "That was stupid."

"What, he asked, licking his lips.

"I tried to take my dress off over these shoes." She pulled the t-shirt down over her hips and past her ass. "Now it's all tangled in my heels. Can you come get them loose. This thing cost me a mint; I don't want to tear it."

He knelt on the floor by the bed and unwound the slippery sating from where it was twisted around her right foot. As her shoe came free, she took her foot and placed it on Changeling's shoulder. Knee bent, heel slightly digging into the thick muscle there. He freed her the rest of the way and she took her foot from his shoulder and lifted it carefully past his face to cross her legs. Then she slowly slid her hand down her calf to reach the buckle on her ankle strap. She looked up at him, eyes sultry and half-closed. Queen Mab's eye makeup glittered in the golden light of the desk lap.

Suddenly, he thrust his right hand into the air, holding his white t-shirt, and waved back and forth frantically.

"Uncle! Uncle!" he said. "I give. I take it back. You 'tease' just fine. No, wait, you are the grand high mistress of tease-fu. Now _stop_ before I do something we'll both regret."

She laughed, breaking the mood in the room. It was a rare, full-bodied Raven laugh, full of warmth. "Poor guy. I really am sorry. But I couldn't just let a challenge like that just lie there.

"Where did you learn to _do_ that? That was _way_ out of bounds for you."

"I like classic movies. Rita Hayworth. Marlene Dietrich. Laurel Becall. Those ladies."

"Wow," he said.

True to his word, he didn't let her out of his sight, escorting her to the bathroom where they both washed off their costume makeup and then returned to the bedroom.

The slid between his sheets and she curled up in his arms. His breathing was evening out and he was barely awake when she spoke in a small voice.

"Are you sure you know what you're getting into? Apparently, my brain is apparently full of spiders and, old movie tropes aside; I really have no idea what I'm doing."

"Let's find out," he murmured into her ear.

Raven slept.

The next morning dawned, and the day began as most days had recently. She woke up in Beast Boy's arms. She opened her eyes and blinked, smiling a small smile. She'd slept well, with no night horrors. Last night had been wonderful, and she was looking forward to . . .

Her eyes went wide. This was new. "Something" was poking her from behind. She looked down. Both of Beast Boy's hands were accounted for. She listened to his breathing, even and steady. And she didn't "feel" him looking at her like she did normally. He was still asleep. But "something" had slipped up under her T-shirt at night. "Something" hard, and very, very warm. She listened to his breathing. It was steady and even. And she didn't have that mysterious "feel" that told her his eyes were on her. He was still asleep.

"This is ridiculous, Raven," she thought. "It's just a penis. You've seen one before. They're all the same. He's just got 'morning wood,' and its bad luck that it happened the one time you came to bed without underwear. Just reach back and push it out from under your shirt. It's not a big deal."

Raven gently slid her hand between their bodies and . . .

"Great googlimoogli!" She snatched her hand away and slid immediately to the edge of the bed, tugging at the bottom of the sleep shirt. She glanced behind her, then threw the sheet back down over her bed-mate.

"Okay, maybe they're _not_ all the same."

Changeling stirred, and opened his eyes.

"'Morning Raven," he said.

"'Morning, Changeling," she said.

He cocked his head. "Changeling? You were the sole hold-out calling me Beast Boy up until last night. Why the change?"

"Oh," she said, back still to him. "No reason. Just seemed like time to stop calling you 'Beast Boy,' I guess."

"Or any _other _kind of boy," she thought. "Azar!"

She stood and strode over to the door. "I'm, um, gonna go grab a shower."

"Raven? You look, flushed. Are you okay? No nightmares?"

"No, no. Feel great. Slept great. Um. Go. Shower now."

She turned, bumped into the door frame, glanced back at him, made a face, and then ran walked off down the hall, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at herself.

"Wonder what all _that _was about?"

* * *

[1] Statements in italics are translations from "Guy," the non-verbal language males use to communicate about primal things like sports, food, and females.


	29. Missing Lemon is Out There

Sorry - no new chapter. (What am I, a machine? Really, people.)

However, the missing Lemon from earlier has finally been made available over on adultfanfiction dot net. Persons of the adult type nature may e-mail at lamont dot cranston1066 -at- gmail dot com and I will provide them with the URL.

In the e-mail, you must double-dog pinky swear that you are eighteen years or older, so that when the police, or your dad with a shotgun, shows up on my doorstep, irate that I have provided smut to a minor, I can raise my hand and solemnly swear that I had no idea you were such a little liar.

Entirely trusting in your spoken word, I remain:

Lamont Cranston

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do."

Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!


	30. A Mile High (But not the Club)

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs –

RandomDalmatian326 – The spoiling is coming to an abrupt end. I know where the next waypoint in the story is, but I'm not sure how to get there. And what do you mean later? These chapters are two to six thousand words. A good reviews is maybe fifty. And I'm not done with fish-lips quite yet. Today's update is centered around him. As to how far the story goes? We'll, I've written the most amazing, romantic proposal scene. But you guys don't get to see it until I can figure out how the road gets there. I've also already done two big party scenes. I'd like to do a third, but really, would that be boring? I've already written Raven's Wedding. It's published on the site. I'm not sure if I've got another one in me. But I do have a really big argument about pregnancy half-composed. So we've got several more key life points to see, plus I figure after that clinical thing earlier, I owe you guys a real lemon. So no, I won't be bailing at "Gar, I think I love you."

Katwizzle – I'm writing as fast as I can, but I need more out of you. What is it you love about the material? The word pictures I paint? The dialogue? The directions the characters are going? Inquiring authors want to know.

yumiulrichlovers – You'd never heard Great Googlimoogli before? It's kind of a old expression. They used to use it in Radio comedies and on TV because they weren't allowed to curse.

shugokage – We'll have to see. Maybe it won't be a fight.

Huntress of the Shadows – Yeah, changeling and Starfire can throw a party all right. Scarface would have been a good choice, but I wanted to put two, repeat TWO really hot girls on his arm, and I remembered Tommy Lee Jones in _Batman Forever_ with Dru Barrymore and Debi Mazar as Sugar and Spice and it was exactly the picture I wanted to paint. Don't get used to the twice-in-one-day updates. I'm starting to run a little dry. You're right – The Queen of Air and Darkness is generally not "evil" by the strictest of definitions. This picture is drawn from the Dresden Files, most specifically the books _Small Favor_ and _Changes._ She's the embodiment of winter, cold, and death as the natural part of the cycle of life. But when she chooses to inject herself into human affairs, it's never to make the humans involved happy.

Sergeant Daniel – You weren't the only one who went for Scarface. I think it was the fedora. Aqualad's got a big scene in today's release, but there's a twist. I hope you like how it turned out.

Shadico – Thanks.

Guest – Really? Cyberwraith . That puts me in high company.

BBLover – Glad you liked it.

Sharpclaws – Thanks. It gives me warm fuzzies to think that my writing pulled you out of your brain. (Which is way different that pulling your brain out.)

Theluckyshot – Yeah. Space marines are the boss.

Omeganian – It's probably because my writing's mostly derivative stereotypes.

Dragonkyng – When's he gonna go to dance class? And everybody wants him to paste ol' fish-lips. Let me know what you think of today's offering.

Justafly – Glad I could keep your attention so long. Sorry about the author's note. I'm writing as fast as I can. It's Aqualad's misfortune to have the girls fall for him instantly in the beginning of Deep Six, thereby causing him to embody all of the pretty boys and jocks with cool cars I knew in high school. So yeah, he's been carefully crafted to be a giant douche. In fact, he goes even lower in today's offering. And yeah, Beast Boy grew up really fast. Part of it is that I've always felt that he was already more grown that he acted. He just didn't want to let go of his childhood until he found a reason. And the other part is that this sucker is already over 100,000 words and folks were clamoring at me to _get on with it._

Johnxgambit – Yeah.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – There's more down the road.

dylanbiancamano – Sorry about that. Yeah, the lemon had very little lemon juice. In fact, it was just about all pith and no juice. But that was sort of the point. And yeah, _I_ thought it was the most convincing request for a condom to ever come out of a teen age girl.

Bob – Yeah, well, the actual writing part goes pretty fast. I can see the pictures in my head and hear Greg Cipes and Tara Strong's voices in my head when I type. The problem is now, how do I get them from where I they are to where I want them to be without it being contrived. I knew I should have held back a few chapters and spread out the release dates, darn it.

Dizzy – Designing the costumes is one of the reasons I love sending them to parties. If I'm not careful, they will spend more time in tuxedos than uniforms.

Psomaster – Thanks.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Well, yes, my lemon was lame. But that was rather the point.

Dizzy – You're not the first person to mention that. I hope that when the time comes, I can deliver.

* * *

So. Here we are. Critical turning point in our character's relationships. Raven embarking on a new direction in her romantic life. Little more rational. But not too. Trying to avoid guys who are bad for her. Wondering why she's attracted to manipulative bad boys. Changeling coming to understand that it's not merely a matter of what you feel, but a willingness to hunt. And of all the Titans there is no better hunter.

Final scenes with Aqualad this chapter. What did Cyborg find on the Titans intranet? Introspection by Jinx. (Why? Dunno. These women just stow up and start talking, so I write it down for you.)

Looking down the road? Not too sure. This is the last of my material I had written in advance. I'm striking out into unknown territory. I did have one question about how far does the story go? Will I quit when Raven declares her love? A kiss before a gothic arched window at sunset, then fade to black?

Hardly. I have written an amazingly sappy and romantic proposal scene that I have to map a way out to. There needs to be at least one big fight and reconciliation. We have to address Changeling's desire to be a dad with Raven's utter refusal to bear children. And finally, I owe you people at least one real lemon to make up for that clinical analysis I've already published. So no, we've got some critical life points yet to go.

Probably 40,000 words or so left, but I'm just guessing.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

It was not too much later that Robin received word that General Immortus was building a giant zombie robot army deep in the Central American jungle. By combining modern technology with ancient Aztec sorcery he was poised to erupt from the jungle and sweep northward, to dominate the North American continent. The "secret lair" was in a nameless Aztec city, deep in the trackless jungle.

Robin spoke to Cyborg. "As much as I hate it, we're going to have to let the City fend for itself for a few days while we deal with this."

"You bringin' the Justice League in? It sounds like a big job, and right up their alley."

"Can't. The A-team is out past Proxima Centauri, doing something 'cosmic' with the Green Lantern Corps, and the B-team is up to their eyeballs trying to prevent a regional war from breaking out in what used to be Eastern Europe. We're going to have to handle this in the family. To have enough firepower, it's going to take the extended family."

Cyborg paused. "Titans East?"

"Yeah. I don't see a way around it."

"I'll handle the logistics, but _you_ get to tell Raven."

Robing didn't sugarcoat it. Raven's face had gone flat at the news.

Robin winced. "Sorry Raven. If I saw any way around it, I wouldn't do this to you."

"It's okay. It's work. And I'll work with him. I'll even be civil. Just don't . . . don't leave me alone in a room with him."

"I'll do my best."

The T-Ship was designed for five people and five people only, so Cyborg borrowed a verti-jet from the Doom Patrol. They were unable to offer any further help, being deeply involved countering a plot by Madame Rouge in North Africa. The Titan's flew northeast and picked up the Steel City Titans, and then headed toward Central America.

It was quiet aboard the verti-jet. The passenger compartment was Spartan, the Doom Patrol's leadership not going in much for creature comforts. The walls were unadorned steel, and the seats simple, cloth-covered bucket seats. Each Titan focused inwardly, carefully considering the coming battle, for battle it would be. No intrigue. No drama. This was going to be a straight –up fight against a vast army of cybernetically enhanced walking dead. Each man and woman reviewed their powers, skills, and assets to best deploy them in the near-future.

Bumblebee was a strong woman. Her body only had normal human strength, but her spirit was was strong, and she was known for packing attitude. She could fly, and there were the stingers. Bumblebee checked her weapons. They weren't an inherent power; they were technology, and they ran on batteries. They hit with a solid punch, but were designed for short fights. The batteries wouldn't hold up long in heavy traffic. She ran her hands over the backup batteries strapped to the small of her back. Cyborg had designed them. They were as small and light as he could make them, but she was still going to have to compensate for how they were going to pull her off balance. They would almost, but not quite, double the number of stings would be able to put out. She would have to make every shot count, and then it would be hand-to-hand.

Speedy went down his stores list. Dressed all in red, he was possibly the fastest archer in the world, barring the Green Arrow himself. His eyes narrowed behind his domino mask as he reviewed his complex equipment. "Lightning arrow – good. Explosive arrow – good. Knockout gas arrow – eh, maybe not. Ah hell, bring it anyway. Two spare bowstrings. Backup take-down bow in back quiver. Catches slightly on draw. There's a burr on the riser. Better buff it off." He muttered on, working his way through involved gear.

In one corner, Mas y Menos were talking to Kid Flash in a rapid-fire mix of Spanish and English, exchanging tips. Only twelve years old, the Guatemalan twins were the youngest Titans on active duty. They shared with Kid Flash the problem of classic speedsters. Fast as lightning, made of tissue. If they got hit, they were going down. They could not, under any circumstances, get hit.

Jinx stared out the window. She looked contemplative. Only a close observer would be able to see the tiny beads of sweat at her hairline. This was going to be different than anything she'd ever done. And she was in _way_ over her head. She'd only been a member of the team for a little while. Prior to that, she'd been their _opponent._ Jinx was a witch. Sort of. Her power was inflexible. All she could cast were hexes, which brought bad luck to their targets. As a young girl, her pink serpentine eyes and fuchsia hair had set her apart from others. She'd had the whole, medieval, stone name-calling, stone-throwing casting-out experience in her home town. So – if she was going to be bad, Jinx had determine to be good at it. The best. Small and slender, she leveraged her powers with her intellect. While inexperienced in many respects, she was able to apply her hexes and acrobatic skills to good effect in the business of strong arm robbery, theft, and armed robbery. Then Kid Flash had demonstrated that not everybody was going to judge her by what showed on the surface. And that like a sword that could either cut and harm, or defend, her powers could also help. But this wasn't just tripping up some stupid bank robbers.

"What am I doing here?" she thought. "I'm a _thief_ for God's sake. I _steal things _for a _career._"

Oh sure, Brother Blood had sent her and the rest of her team out on hit missions to take out the Titans or whoever. But this was, well, war. And not just any war. It was deep blue hero stuff. Save the world.

"What am I _thinking_? I can't save the world. Oh, sure. I can sling more bad luck than fifty pissed off black cats in a wet burlap sack. But this . . . ."

She looked around at her new friends. Nobody staring. Nobody turning their backs. Everyone getting ready. All for one and one for all. Real three musketeers, team-type stuff. They'd given her a chance when she'd had nothing. When Kid Flash has brought her to Titan Tower, Robin hadn't batted an eye. "Everybody," he said, "deserves a second chance." And he'd extended his hand.

She squeezed her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. Then smiled a tiny smile at one corner of her mouth.

"Zombies," she thought. "Ick. Well, if I don't live to see the sun rise, General Immortus is going to learn why it's expensive to trust to luck." Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she began to relax.

Aqualad looked out the window and sighed in boredom. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back into the seat. "I wonder," he thought, "If we'll be back in time for my date. That librarian at Steel City Community College is right on the edge of giving it up." He leaned back and put his hands behind his head.

Up in the cockpit, Cyborg turned to his co-pilot. "Raven," he said, "I'm getting a flutter in the hydraulics line for the main cargo door I don't like. Take over, will you?"

"Sure," she replied.

Cyborg keyed the intercom. "Changeling, please come to the cockpit. Need a hand up here."

Raven looked at him quizzically.

"FAA Rules. Two pilots in the cockpit at all times."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the console. Cyborg and Changeling passed each other in the companionway.

"Gotta check a hydraulic line aft," said Cy. "Need another pilot."

Changeling grinned. "On it," he said.

Cyborg walked through the passenger area where the rest of the Titans were restlessly checking gear or lost in thought. He stepped down the two steps into the cargo area and looked around. He smiled a small, cold smile. This would do nicely. All was proceeding as he had foreseen. He checked his watch. They should now be just about a mile in the sky over the Mojave desert, one of the driest parts of the North American continent. He keyed the intercom.

"Aqualad to the rear cargo bay. I need an extra pair of hands back here and on somebody tall."

Garth, adopted Prince of Atlantis, protégé to Aquaman, strode into the cargo bay, brimming with confidence. He stepped through the door and said, "So, what's . . ."

And enormous metal hand closed on the fabric of his tunic and jerked him sideways. His hair whipped over his face, blocking his vision as the back of his head rapped smartly against the metal bulkhead. *BAM* He saw stars.

"What the fuck?" he said, tossing his hair back.

"You hurt my friend."

"Who? Raven? She's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions."

*BAM* The machine-man slammed Aqualad up against the exterior bulkhead next to the loading door.

Aqualad saw stars again. "Ow! Cut it out. It's not like I took it all. She's got plenty left."

*BAM* "You watch your mouth."

Aqualad shook his head again, and looked Cyborg in the eye. "Oh, please," he said, sardonically. "Like nobody knows about the great Victor Stone. They _still _talk about your scorecard on the pickup forums. You got plenty back when you still had a dick."

*BAM* "Ow, fuck. So get down off your high horse."

Cyborg ground his teeth and spoke. His tone was low and even. "Do not _ever_ compare me to the likes of you. I'm _nothing_ like you. Yeah, back when I was top jock in college there were some girls who wanted to party with the school hero. Know what? They were party girls, and I made sure that every single one of them knew _exactly _what she was getting into. It was Raven's first time out of the chute. You knew that, and you _took advantage._ There are two words for guys like you. _Douche. Bag."_

"All's fair . . ."

*BAM* "Don't you dare say 'love.' Your mouth's not clean enough to have that word in it."

"So what do you want?"

"I _saw_ you fucking with Raven's head at the Halloween party. Cut it out. It's over between you, and she's gonna be able to get to get past this and move on."

"Hey, I just thought I'd see if she was interested in another lesson – "

*BAM* "There's gonna be no booty calls, *BAM* no ex-sex, *BAM* and no 'trying again.' You're bad for her, and you're gonna stay away."

"She's a grown woman, and can make her own choices. What do you think _you're _gonna do about it, _Tin Man? _You've chosen a really good place to do this. But we're not gonna be a mile above a desert forever. And you're gonna gets what's coming to you."

Cyborg snarled and slapped the "Deploy" switch next to the cargo door. The hydraulics hissed and the door opened, ramp revealing open sky. The interior of the cargo area was filled with a roaring vortex of wind. Stray bits of paper whipped up from the floor, around in a circle and then out the door into the sky a mile over Nevada.

The intercom crackled and Raven's voice sounded over the noise of the wind. "Cyborg, report! My board shows the cargo door opened. We've depressurized. What the hell is going on down there?"

Cyborg and Aqualad glared at each other.

The machine-man spoke. "Nothing, Raven. Just dealing with that flutter I told you about. Keep everybody out and maintain course and speed."

There was a pause. "Ok."

The intercom clicked off.

Aqualad held eye-contact with Cyborg. "You're bluffing. Heroes don't kill."

Cyborg snarled and flung Aqualad to the floor, slamming the "Close" button with his free hand. The cargo door closed with inhuman efficiency.

The amphibian rose, straightening his clothing.

"If that's all you wanted to discuss, I think I'll go hunt up an aspirin. I seem to have developed a minor headache." He sneered.

Cyborg flashed across the bay like an angry rhino. His left hand mashed Aqualad back against the bulkhead again.

"Oh, we're not done yet."

With his right he snatched the Titan comset off of this fish-man's belt. He smacked it against his sternum.

"It's not just a camera phone, tuna-breath. It's a sophisticated multi-media I/O device on an interactive, combined synchronous/asynchronous network!"

"What?" said Aqualad, frowning.

"It means I _found your dirty pictures_ you jackass!"

Aqualad paled slightly. "You had no right."

"Maybe not, but I did it. Nice count you got there. Sixty-seven lovely young ladies over the past three or four years, according to the timestamps. Mostly citizen girls. A few Titan girls. And a dozen or so of the daughters of the highest noble houses of Atlantis. _Very _impressive. And all in candid action shots sharing the limelight with And all in candid action shots sharing the limelight with _you_. And I'm _so _sure that you got _all_ those girls' permission before you took those filthy pictures of them with you. Two words: Douche. Bag."

"Okay, so you copied my pictures. Big deal."

"_Very _big deal. First, I didn't just copy them. I _deleted _them from your comset, the nextwork, and flushed them from our backups. The _only_ copy that's left is encrypted on my personal emergency backup hard drive. And in case you're getting any ideas about hiring a hacker, it's the one underneath my _liver._ So it's fucking secure. You're not going to see those pics again. Oh, I've deleted Raven's entirely. But the ones of the other girls are safely locked away."

"You won't publish them. You wouldn't do that to the girls. It would come out in court, too."

"You're right." Cyborg smiled a slow, cold smile. "So here's what I _am_ gonna do. I'm gonna give you some directions, and you're gonna follow them to the letter. If you don't, I'm gonna e-mail them to their brothers and their fathers. "

The color drained out of Aqualad's face as he turned, well, fish-belly white.

"Except the Atlantian ones. I don't have those e-mail addresses. They'd just have to go straight to Prince Arthur."

"You wouldn't."

"Sorted, tagged, loaded, queued up, and read to hit 'send.'"

"You do realize that I won't be able to talk my way out of _all _of those. At least one of those men is bound to just show up with a shotgun and not listen to reason. You'll be killing me."

"Consider me a messenger."

"What do you want?"

"Just what I said. Leave Raven alone. If she comes to you, you're gonna be saddened that it didn't work out, but you guys need to move on."

"She's not going to appreciate it when she finds out."

"You're gonna make sure she doesn't. Or I'm hitting 'send.'"

"Ok. Ok. Anything else? An oath of celibacy, maybe?"

"You couldn't do it. You don't have the strength of character. But you _are_ gonna stick to party girls who know what they are getting into. No more hunting in a baited field. Oh, and no more dirty pictures. If I even get a hint of one . . ."

"Whatever."

Aqualad returned to his seat first. Then Cyborg passed through on his way to the cockpit. As he passed Robin in the companionway, Robin grasped his arm.

"Message delivered?" he asked the older man in a low voice.

Cyborg paused. He curled a lip in a sneer. "Like an SMS from hell."


	31. Opening Skirmish

Shout Outs:

Cyntalan – Thanks! Nice to hear from you.

shugokage – over protective? Speaking as an actual big brother, I think he's protective just about right.

Alister Nightfoot – Thanks.

irishfan62 - You're not the only one. See, I hadn't planned on writing the epic battle with General Immortus and his troops. Since this is a Romance, I was just planning on writing the aftermath, and alluding the battle. But I apparently broke Chekov's Law.

Katwizzle – Thanks. Me, too. But we have to get through this carnage first.

dylanbiancamano – I think so, too.

Cass – Thanks. I like to think I captured Epic douchbag fairly well.

yumiulrichlovers – Thanks.

NicolethePenguin – You're very kind. Sequel? Well, let's get through this one, first.

Windup- Thank you. I've been neglecting Robin, though. So this chapter, I'm going to tear one of his arms out of the socket.

Justafly – Well, we'll see. I know folks were looking forward to an epic dust up with Changeling.

theluckyshot – Yeah – well. It was well-played but I had to create an entire zombie robot army to get Cyborg and Aqualad that far away from any water. Now I have to deal with the army. *sigh* There may have been an easier way to do that.

TTndAvatarFan – Thanks.

Omeganian – Well, he does have some hero work to do SOMETIMES. And I'm honored. Please link me anywhere you think I'm a good fit.

Dragonkyng – No fear. I will at least finish this story.

Lord Vukodlak – It wasn't Aqualad himself, but how he made Changeling feel. I was seriously able to identify with Garfield in Deep Six. And it was three. I left out the dialogue because I felt that Raven, in that scene was too detached to care. But Aqualad would be quick to point out that at no time were they exclusive. Any assumptions she made were entirely her fault. Or so he'd say. Douche.

JOHNXgambit – Yeah. He does like taking care of his girls. Whether they like it or not.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – Thanks!

shingi echidna – Thanks!

Dizzy – Cy is the man!

LadyFelton1994 – send me an email to lamont dot Cranston 1066 –at- gmail dot com and I'll send you directions to the lemon. I can't put it here – fanfiction dot net strips out URLS.

TripleTheCheese – I'll do the best I can.

V for anonymous – Glad to hear from you. Sorry for the delay.

Guest – Glad to hear from you.

* * *

Okay folks. Sorry for the delay on this. A couple of factors have gone into it. First, I'm doing a little traveling. Can't type in the car; makes me motion sick. (More than you needed to know, I'm sure.) Second, though, this isn't really my type of scene. I'm far more interested in the interpersonal relationships among the characters, as well as the scenes of day-to-day life than I am epic action scenes. So I'm really having to flog this. I will be very interested in hearing if you find it to be a good read.

Looking down the road, we still have the epic battle to come. The near disasterious twist. (_Never_ underestimate General Immortus. If it's one thing he knows, it's how to deploy troops.) The heroic breakthough that saves the day, and then on to the fun part. Some really cute scenes I have storyboarded for the trip home.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

It was several hours later that Cyborg called Robin to the cockpit.

"Rob, we're starting to get close. Satellite photos show two clearings near the ruined city. One's in fairly close. We're pretty sure Immortus is using that as a staging spot for his own aircraft. There's another one about four miles out that will fit the verti-jet."

"Have we been spotted?"

"Not yet. Engaging stealth mode now."

The Doom Patrol jet was equipped with a reflective electronic coating that absorbed radar impulses while at the same time producing a rough image of the sky or ground on the surface of the jet. It wasn't invisible, but unless you knew where to look, you were unlikely to spot it. The jungle presented an unbroken canopy for hundreds of miles in all directions. Only the very upper levels of the ancient pyramid and some of the other central buildings showed their shoulders above the upper terrace of green. Cyborg circled the area once and spotted a small, man-made clearing with a small handful of VTOL aircraft in it.

"There are Immortus' aircraft," he pointed.

"Hmmm . . . not very many," said Robin.

"I know. Just couriers, and what looks like his personal private jet."

"So where are the transports?"

"There's not enough here, and no place else for them to land," said Cyborg.

"Well," interrupted Changeling, "trucks would be cheaper, right? They can haul more weight and farther for the same amount of fuel cost."

The other two men looked at him sharply for a moment.

"What? I can't watch war movies? Even Immortus has to function within a budget."

"Lemme check the infra-red. I think I see it now."

Cyborg gestured to a small screen on the far side of the cockpit.

"Those red spots represent really hot heat sources: car and truck engines. Those two or three orange once are people."

"That's not enough," said Robin. "Do we have a motion sensor?"

"It's not going to be accurate with us moving at this speed, so high up, and through the jungle canopy. But we can try it. Each green dot represents a moving target about human size."

The four of them looked at the screen in amazement for a moment.

"Azar," said Raven. "There must be _hundreds _of them."

"Why didn't they show up on the infra-red?" asked Changeling.

"The dead," Robin said, "Don't have body heat."

"We've got another problem, Rob," said Cyborg.

"What?"

"There something interfering with radio communications in this region. It's going to be hard or impossible to get a signal through on the comnet. Once we hit the ground, each team is going to be out of touch."

"Damn," Robin muttered. "Okay," he said, thinking quickly. "We can use Kid Flash and Mas y Menos to, um, carry notes, I guess" he said, remembering the twin's limited communication skills.

"Raven, I don't suppose . . . "

"Sorry Robin. I'm more about knowing how people feel, not what they think. And I can really only do that from up close."

"Who else have we got in coms?"

"The whole team is Changeling You, Raven, Me, Starfire, Bumblebee, Mas y Menos, Kid Flash, Speedy, Aqualad, and Jinx."

"Well, we can't delay. _Look _at the size of that army. There are dozens of farming communities between here and the border that are in danger. And the victims will add to the size of the army. This has to be stopped here, and it's got to be now."

Cyborg nodded. "No way we can put the verti-jet down in the close clearing without being spotted. Do you want to send in a strike team to take out the guards? Or use the other clearing. Doing five miles overland in the jungle will cost us a lot of time, even for our people."

Robin pondered.

"Raven, could you gate a strike team to the ground from here?"

"Not from here, Robin," she replied. "We're almost a mile in the sky. I can only gate short-range. We'd have to get within a few hundred yards."

"If we get that close," said Robin, "the engine noise will give us away."

"Well," said Cyborg, "I could kill the power and glide in. But it would be dangerous. If we come in that low and I can't re-start the engines for any reason, we could end up eating jungle pretty quick."

"I don't like the sound of it," said Robin, "but it's looking like our only option to get there in time. Immortus is already getting ready to transport his troops."

The strike team was assembled. Cyborg, as the best pilot, had to remain behind. Raven, Robin, and Kid Flash were selected as the strike team, as they could strike hard, silently, and fast.

Changeling spoke. "I'm in."

Robin said, "Actually, Beast Boy . . ."

"Robin, I'm in."

The Changeling held eye contact with Robin for a minute, and he shrugged. Robin had the rest of the Titans strap into seats in crash positions, just in case, and Cyborg put the verti-jet into a long, slow glide, and killed the engines.

"Okay Raven," said Cyborg from the cockpit. We're coming up on the drop zone. Drop zone in thirty seconds. Fifteen seconds. 10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 8 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1: Titans GO!"

Raven crossed her arms over her chest, then extended them down to her sides and arched her neck back. Her eyes glowed white with eldritch power, and a bubble of dark energy formed about the strike team and then sank into the floor.

"All right," said Cyborg, "Now let's see if I can re-light this candle."

Down on the jungle floor, things were a lot less calm. The four Titans hit the ground facing each of the four cardinal points of the compass. Gliding the verti-jet had been a risky move, but it had paid off. The six immortus troopers were caught completely unprepared. Raven encased one trooper's head in a ball of dark energy, preventing him from speaking, and then choked him unconscious after snatching his rifle away with another energy flare. Changeling selected the form of a panther, springing toward his opponent and knocking him out with a single paw blow to the head. Robin broke out his bow staff and disarmed his opponent, then clubbed him unconscious. Kid Flash unloaded his opponent's weapon, tied his shoelaces together, pants-ed him, and then pushed him over forward on his face. Then he kicked him in the head.

Robin snarled, "Quit playing around," and pointed as the fifth trooper raced into a small guard shack and lifted a radio phone to his lips. Kid Flash's eyes widened and he vanished, a red and yellow streak blurring into the guard shack. He disconnected the handset of the radio phone, dis-assembled the trooper's weapon, and then knocked him unconscious. The last trooper panicked and attempted to flee into the jungle, but was knocked down by a bolo from Robin, who came to tie him up and stack him with the others.

The four heroes looked around.

"That was easy," said Changeling.

"Too easy," said Robin.

The four looked around. The greenery was moving. Moving more than the light breeze could account for. The carrion smell rose. Changeling covered his sensitive nose.

"Um, guys," he said, "I don't think it's over yet."

The brush on one side of the clearing parted and a man stepped out. Well, a former man, anyway. He was about five foot eight, and swarthy. His head was half shaved and half of his scalp had been replaced with a steel plate. Lights glowed on the plate, blinking in sequence. His jaw lolled partially open, displaying broken, snaggled, yellow teeth. His eyes were white, and unblinking. The sockets continually seemed a festering black liquid that also seemed ooze from his ears and nostrils. His clothes were tattered, and there were additional electronic implants across his chest and down his arms. With no warning he launched himself twenty feet across the clearing in less time than it takes to read about it, leaping on Robin like a panther.

Robin was fast, and already had his bo staff out. He spun on his heel, dodged, and brought his staff down on the neck of the flying dead man. There was an audible cracking sound, like stepping on a big, black cockroach. The man went down at Robin's feet.

"That wasn't so hard," observed Changeling.

Then, to their horror, the creature moved its hands up under its body and pushed itself upright. It stood, straightened its head on its shoulders, and lunged at Robin again. Robin spun, and knocked the creature's head sideways, but it just kept coming. He struck it about the head, shoulders, and torso with he bo staff, but the creature refused to go down. Raven looked at the creature and chanted.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zynthos."

She crossed her arms together, then spread them apart, extending blades of dark energy from the ends of her wrists. The cut the creature into three pieces, separating the head and legs from the torso.

Then, to her horror, the headless, legless torso began to drag itself toward Robin.

"Oh, ew," she said, and proceeded to disjoint the creature, cutting it apart at all of its major joints.

"That's the grossest thing I've ever had to do," she said.

"You ok Raven?" asked Kid Flash. "You look pretty pale, even for you."

"I'll be okay. That was nasty."

"Uh, guys," said Changeling, "We're not done yet."

A dozen more of the dead leapt out of the bushes.

"Haven't these guys seen _anything_ by George Romero? They're not supposed to be this fast."

Kid Flash blurred into action, racing about the clearing clubbing the creatures as they emerged from the jungle, but it had virtually no effect. Robin broke out his scarlet sword and went to work. The first creature reached out to him and his amputated its arm. A black ooze flowed slowly from the stump. Robin paled, the creature didn't respond to the injury except to turn abruptly and grab his throat with its left hand and start to squeeze. He brought his sword up to cut the creature's other arm away, but by the time he'd done that, two others seized him from behind and began to pull. He'd barely managed to process that when to his horror, he realized that the dismembered arm, still clinging to his neck, was continuing to strangle him.

Raven was doing better. She levitated into the air and began to use blades of dark energy to disjoint two of the creatures. Suddenly, a third leapt straight up into the air about twenty feet, grabbing her around the waist. Startled and distracted, she lost her concentration and the two fell to the soft loam of the jungle floor. The creature tried to clamber up her body, reaching for her neck.

"Let go," she said.

Changeling had the best start. In his panther form he was as quick as the undead, but far better armed that Kid Flash had been. He leapt from zombie to zombie, cutting their hamstrings and then bounding on to the next opponent, not staying to wrestle their superior strength. His fallen opponents continued to crawl after him, dragging themselves by their arms.

Kid Flash blurred to a stop next to Robin, who had dropped his sword to try to pry the zombie's disembodied hand from his throat.

"Mind if I borrow this?" He said as he picked up the sword from the jungle floor.

He then proceeded with great enthusiasm and no skill whatsoever at the two zombies holding Robin. Then he paused. To his great horror, they had begun to pull on Robin's arms.

Robin freed his throat. "Cut their arms off, cut their arms off," he cried.

A sharp crack like a gunshot came from Robin's left shoulder. He screamed.

Kid Flash set his jaw, braced his feet, and hacked at the zombie holding Robin's left shoulder.

The zombie had crawled up Raven's body, covering her with it's own.

"I said let. Me. Go. Azarath, Meterion, Zynthos!"

Her eyes glowed white with power, and she drew her arms sharply apart. The zombie was briefly encased in a cocoon of dark energy, and then torn into five different twitching segments. As it came apart, the torso exploded like and over-fed maggot, spraying found black icor all over Raven as she lay below its festering body.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, "I could have handled that better."

She'd held still for too long. One of Changeling's hamstrung opponents had hand-walked itself across the clearing like a demented spider and seized her neck from behind.

"No you don't," she said, and removed both of its hands with a blade of dark energy. She immediately bounded into the air and levitated twice as high above the battlefield. She looked down to assess the situation. Changeling had reduce the mobility of all of the remaining zombies while Kid Flash was finishing up cutting Robin free from his opponents. Robin's left arm dangled alarmingly. With more blades of dark energy she severed the heads, arms, and legs from the torsos of the remaining undead. Then she looked down. Robin was frantically waving her down with his good arm.

"Raven," he hissed, "you can't fly that high! You can be seen from there. You'll give away our position to the main body of troops!"

She floated quickly to the ground. "Sorry," she said. "I wasn't thinking. I was just trying to stay out of reach."

Robin looked her up and down. "I can see why. Ew."

"Thanks."

The four heroes quickly moved to the edge of the clearing to be out of Cyborg's way when he brought down the verti-jet.

"Wow," said Cyborg, "what happened to you guys?"

Robin replied, "There were about 12 zombies here in addition to the four live guards our infra-red picked up. Two of them tried to pull me apart. Kid Flash here got me loose just short of 'too late.'"

Bumblebee looked at Raven. "Ew, honey. Not a good look for you."

"Everyone's so helpful."

"Rob, I've got good news, and I've got bad news. The good news is, that shoulder isn't broken. The bad news is, relocating a posterior should dislocation hurts. Like a mother."

"Fix it," he said. "We've got work to do."

Cyborg had Robin stand with his back to the hull of the vertijet. Then he took his right hand and placed it in the center of the Boy Wonder's chest, and held him in place.

"Okay Rob, here we go."

And then he jerked the left arm straight forward, fast and hard.

Robin's face went white and he broke into a cold sweat as a crack like a gunshot came from his left shoulder. The other Titans, all standing in a circle to watch, winced and shuddered.

"I didn't need to see that," said Bumblebee, a little unsteadily.

"I could have done without it myself," said Robin, sitting down.

"Okay, here's what the strike team learned: the undead are fast, can leap like grasshoppers, and are unbelievably strong. They almost tore me in half."

He gestured to the pile of still moving parts. "They have to be dismembered to stop them completely, and once the select a target, they pursue them to exclusion of all else."

Cyborg began to examine the fallen corpses.

"We don't have time for that, Cyborg."

"Give me and Raven ten minutes, Rob. I have a couple of ideas. Raven, what can you tell me about these things."

She wrinkled her nose. "They're gross."

She wiped at her face some more.

"C'mon Raven," said Changeling. "Do something mystic-y."

She looked at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think I want my mind anywhere near those things?"

"Raven," said Cyborg, "Can you tell me _anything? _It might be important."

She sighed and closed her eyes, sending her soul self out. There was a pause, and the dark energy passed through the dead body. Then it re-entered her own body.

She shuddered. "That was as gross as they are on the outside. But I did learn something. Look near the heart," she said to Cyborg. "The auras on these things are really dark to start with, but there's something in there that's really dark."

Looking closely, he saw an incision in the chest over the heart. As the corpse had rotted and started to bloat, the swelling hid the stitches and he'd missed it. He made a face, grabbed the unhealed wound, and pulled it open. Inside, the underlying rib had been removed. Reluctantly, he reached inside the body and pulled something free. The twitching of the creature stilled immediately. A dark shadow drifted from the incision and dissipated in the air.

"I don't know anything about magic, but this is a Stark Industries Central Motivator. They're supposed to be used on industrial robots in manufacting plants. I'm guessing that the firmware's been tampered with. It should also be to big to fit here, but the shielding's been removed. You should be able to fry these things with a good, sharp electrical shock."

"Electric Eel, here I come," said Changeling.

"Okay people," Robin said. "We need to get moving, and fast. I want this fight done before sunset. I don't want to try to deal with those things in the dark. Let's move out."

The Titans slipped into standard two-by-two cover formation and headed out as a fast march down the jungle track toward the heart of the ancient city.

"I don't suppose," said Kid Flash, as they stepped into the deep jungle, "that anyone could loan me either a sharp object or a cattle prod?"


	32. Walking Dead

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs:

shugokage – Thanks, glad you enjoyed it.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Yeah, well, they should have thought of that before they left. Don't worry. I've found a way for a speedster to drop a cyber-zombie. It's one of the grossest things I've come up with yet.

Omeganian – Yeah. Wait 'till you see Mas y Menos drop their first Cyber Zombie.

dylanbiancamano – Yeah. But really, what fun is this? I mean, where's the angst? Where's the pathos? Well, okay, there's a little as Robin realizes that he's probably gotten everyone killed, but other than that . . . .

Justafly – Trouble in chem class, eh? Sorry I missed it. Caught by the Prof? No ninja points for you. Yeah, "pantsing" is very much an Americanism. And yeah, dislocated shoulders suck. I asked an emergency room nurse for the worst, most painful dislocation on the list and what it sounded like. So that scene was written from life. It really sounds like that. Except for the cyber-zombies, I mean.

JohnXGambit – No, just old George Romero movies.

Sergeant Daniel – Yeah, my mouth wrote a check my fingers have to cash.

Euripidtus – Glad you liked it.

V for Anonymous – Thanks.

V (again) – I made sure there was some in this chapter. Not steamy, but still.

SonictheHedgewolf – Fast as I can

Dragonkyng – This action-hero stuff is slow going. I write about people much faster than I write about fights.

* * *

From the Author –

Okay, let's see. Sorry for the delay in getting this out. It's coming very slowing. Writing these actions scenes is like wading through calf-deep zombie ichor. It's just slow going. Big fight coming up, and where is Aqualad? And why did Robin think fish-lips would do any more good in the middle of the jungle than he is in the desert? Lots of action, very little emotion in this chapter.

On down the road we have the appearance of General Immortus and his obligatory monologue. The twist ending to the huge fight. Raven in a state of utter exhaustion.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

As they marched, Raven approached Robin. Without preamble she said, "Robin, if you fight on that shoulder without resting it for at least a week, you're going to pop it out again."

"I can't stand down," he replied. "We're shorthanded as it is."

"Okay Robin, I get that. Let Cyborg try and strap it down a little. It's going to hurt your technique, but it might help keep it from popping back out right away."

The group moved quietly through the Jungle. The Titans began to sweat. Insects swarmed close, and the humidity began to close in. Changeling transformed into a panther and sprang ahead down the trail.

"Um, Robin, did you want me to scout ahead,' said Kid Flash. "I'm pretty good at it."

"The jungle is Changeling's home," Robin responded. I'm going to let him get the general impressions. Once we can be sure you're not sprinting into a trap, I plan to send you in to check the details."

The team continued to plod through the heavy ground cover.

Sweat began to roll into Jinx's eyes. She had been a child in India, but it had been a long time since she's tried to function in this kind of humidity. But nobody was complaining. Everyone around her was trying to move as quietly as possible; even those with no woodcraft were being very careful how they placed their feet. The column moved in near silence.

Changeling raced through the jungle. Something was _wrong_ here. Bad wrong. The air should have been filled with the sound of birds and monkeys. Sharp caws, squeaks and chatter ought to have been everywhere. Instead, the thick, humidity laden air was heavy with silence. Only the sound of the wind in the upper terrace disturbed the thick silence. Worse: it didn't smell right. The jungle is some of the densest, richest banks of life on the planet, second only to some wetlands and reefs. It should have smelled of musk, droppings, pheromones, and feeding. Where those scents existed, they were dim, pale, and fading. _Nothing_ alive had been in this jungle for quite a while. Instead, there was the smell of death. Death and rotting flesh. A lot of it. And the farther he traveled down the path, the stronger it got. After a little while the upper terrace began to thin, and the sky began to show overhead.

Changeling shifted into the form of a parrot.

"A green parrot wouldn't normally stand out around here. But I being to suspect that anything that moves is going to be out of the ordinary. But we need the intel."

The parrot sat on a branch for a moment, looking out into the jungle-cloaked city. While the city had clearly been abandoned a very long time ago, the recent tenants had made quite an impact. A larger road had been cut from the edge of the jungle into the city. It led a straight path through the city, straight through the temple complex to the ancient stone pyramid at the very heart of the city. The parrot glided over it, circling the pyramid once, and then heading to the edge of the jungle to perch on a branch.

"This is not good," he thought. "Not good at all."

He turned his head and scanned the meticulously manicured ground under the tree cover. There, concealed from both satellite intelligence and the Titan's own over-flight, were troop transport trucks. And not the dozens Robin had told him to expect. Not dozens, but hundreds. So many he couldn't count them, and they vanished into the gloom under the trees in the distance. Fuel trucks moved among them, filling the tanks. He flicked his wings and made a circuit around the top of the pyramid, then soared back to the path.

Changeling encountered the rest of the team just as they were approaching the final bend in the path before they reached the city.

"Didn't see any more monsters. Not yet," he reported. "But there are enough trucks on the other side of the compound to move _thousands _of those things to the railhead."

"Anything else," Robin asked.

"They're up to something on the top floor of the big pyramid. It smells funny. And not funny ha-ha. Or even funny strange. Just . . . wrong."

"Okay Flash," said Robin, "You're on. But listen – you must _not _be noticed. Surprise is all we've got going for us. If you get caught, we may all be dead."

The young man swallowed, and glanced over at Jinx.

"Right," he said.

"I'll be back in flash!"

He vanished.

They waited. And waited. And waited.

"Um," said Changeling, "Isn't he usually back by now?"

"Yeah," said Cyborg. "Something's wrong."

"Sorry I took so long," said Flash. Those . . . things don't get bored. They don't wander off, and they never have to go to the bathroom. I got pinned by a couple of them when they were sent to guard a corridor."

"What can you tell us?" Robin asked.

"Well," he replied, "Changeling's right. They're up to something on the top floor. It's sort of an open-air platform. There's a passage going down into the pyramid, but that's not all. There's an altar-thing up there and a bowl on a stand. The altar is creepy. It's pretty obviously were people's hearts used to get cut out a long time ago. It's recently stained and the whole place literally stinks. But the bowl is weird. I couldn't look directly at it. It's sort of, black. The closer I tried to look the fuzzier my vision got."

"Wait," said Raven. A bowl that looks like a black pit in the surface of reality? The closer your look at it, the fuzzier it gets?

"Do you know about it?" asked Robin.

"Not likely. I mean, it sound like the Dark Heart of Uurkul. It's just a legend. It's a black gemstone. It's supposed to be the actual, genuine heart of darkness. It can be used to raise the dead by channeling dark energy from the negative energy plane . . ."

"Raven," said Cyborg, "Suddenly I understand how Changeling feels when I try to explain technology. Can you cut to the chase?"

Raven's left eyebrow twitched. "Right. Don't touch it. If you touch it, it'll squeeze your soul out and suck it into a black spiritual void from which nothing has ever emerged. It's what's providing the energy to motivate these creatures. Immortus must be using it to animate the dead. I mean it. Touching it will be a one way trip you don't come back from."

"How do we destroy it?"

"We don't. The best we can hope for is to bury it deep and hope nobody digs it up any time soon."

Robin thought for a moment. "Kid Flash, take Aqualad and Jinx. Burn those trucks. All of them. If this fight goes pear-shaped, at least we'll have bought the others some time. The rest of you, break into teams. I want people who can fly or move fast paired with someone they can help close. We need to hit the top of that pyramid hard. If it moves, tear it apart. Be careful: there are live Immortus troopers among the dead. Don't kill anyone you don't have to. Raven – I want you to try and contain the Heart, if that's what it is."

The young people licked their lips and looked at each other.

The group crept toward the central pyramid as quietly as they could.

Changeling spoke to Raven. "I'm . . . not going to have your back in this one."

"I know," she replied. "We can both fly, so we'll be taking ground-pounders for partners. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. I just wanted you to know that I didn't like it."

She smiled, the drying black icor on her face cracking and crumbling away revealing her grey skin underneath.

"This one's gonna be ugly," she said. "I may not be able to have your back, either. You take care of yourself."

He smiled back, a small smile. "'Fuck this – I'm gonna live!'"

"And quit quoting 'Firefly' at me in intimate moments."

He grinned toothily, then sobered, and moved away.

The team broke into pairs. Cyborg would fly with Changeling, because they had done so so many times before. Starfire would carry Robin, for the same reason. Raven would provide a disk of dark energy for Speedy until he was engaged with the enemy. Bumblebee would be on her own, and Mas y Menos would attack from the ground, using their speed to stay ahead of the walking dead.

Aqualad, Jinx, and Kid Flash were still missing, but a rich, dark, thick column of smoke was making its way up through the jungle canopy on the other side of the city.

Bumblebee drew out her stingers. Robin palmed a handful of high-explosive grenades. Mas ground his teeth while beads of sweat stood out on Meno's forehead. Speedy cracked his neck, tightened his grip on the riser of his bow, and selected an arrow from his pack. Changeling shifted into the form of the _Quetzalcoatlus, _the largest of the winged dinosaurs. Cyborg climbed on his pack. He dialed his sonic cannon to '11.' His arm hummed with power. With Boundless Confidence and Righteous Fury, Starfire reached out and took Robin's hand in hers. Raven concentrated, and a disk of dark energy manifested beneath Speedy's feet.

"Titans," said Robin, tightly . . . "GO!"

The leather wings boomed as they caught the air, Changeling coming off the mark first, carrying Cyborg into the valley where the ancient city lay. Raven and Speedy moved with the speed of thought. But nothing on earth was faster than Starfire, when she was living in the moment – delighting in the Joy of Flight. The team fanned out into a V-formation, Bumblebee on one wing, Changeling on the other, with Robin and Starfire in the lead and Raven and Speedy in between. Below, on the valley floor, Mas y Menos carefully kept pace.

The team banked and began to dive. Cyborg's sonic cannot has ten settings, all the way from "Easy Listening" to "Make a Hole In Rock." The sonic blast struck the temple at the top of the ancient pyramid and burst it, scattering ancient stone carvings and zombie parts with equal ease. Starfire rolled her arm underhand and Robin flew through the air, in as skilled and graceful a triple-somersault as ever the Flying Greyson's ever managed. A fist full of his high explosive grenades arced out before him, splattering the creatures that shuffled out of the shattered doorway where the temple used to be.

"Thanks for the lift, Raven," said Speedy as he somersaulted from the flying disk near the edge of the shattered temple.

Changeling screeched and touched down on the roof as well, transforming back into his human form as Cyborg slid off his back. The girls circled.

"I don't get it," Changeling said.

"Me neither," replied Speedy. "There's supposed to be more of them."

"There are," Changeling said. "A lot more. I can smell them. But where. I mean, why . . ."

The ground shook. Then shook again.

"Earthquake?" asked Speedy.

"I wish," said Changeling. "Look!"

The shapeshifted pointed down the sides of the pyramid. In the center of each side of the pyramid, a panel had dropped down, revealing a wide staircase leading to what had to be huge caverns below. From the caverns came an unearthly howling, and a hot wind with a carnal stench. From the darkness below came rank upon rank of clumsy but swift moving dead. The spilled out onto all for faces of the pyramid and began to immediately creep up its flanks like a graveyard fungus. The team stared.

Speedy was the first to shake of the paralysis, and cut loose with an arrow that exploded inside the chest of the first of the zombies to climb the north face.

"Dear God," he said, "There are hundreds of them!"

"And no sign of Immortus," said Robin.

Cyborg turned to look down the south face of the pyramid, and focused his sonic cannon on the lead Zombie there. Firing, he punched a hole neatly through its chest. It collapsed.

"Ok, Rob," he said, "We've bitten it off. Now how do we chew it?"

More zombies poured out of the openings.

"No time for subtlety. Titans, GO!"

The girls circled the top of the pyramid. Bumblebee made every shot count, a stinger in each hand. As each bolt of power struck a zombie in the chest, they fell backwards off of the pyramid into the oncoming hoard.

"HAH! HAH! HAH!" Starfire's battle cry echoed up and down the empty streets of the ancient city as she fairly rained starbolts down on the zombies. No longer required to pull her punches as she did on the living, each bolt burst the chest of a zombie, splattering entrails in a fetid ring about ten feet from the top of the structure.

Raven's dark energy slashed from nowhere, dismembering zombies and sending heads and limbs rolling under the feet of the apparently endless ranks of walking dead.

In the quiet street at the bottom, the two brothers consulted.

"Ya sabes, podríamos estar en casa en Guatemala en menos de cinco minutos," Mas said.

"Ni siquiera bromear. Estos son nuestros amigos. Y, además, no hemos ido a la playa todavía," Menos responded.

"Lo siento. He pasado mucho tiempo en torno a Senor Changeling," said Mas.

The two brothers locked wrists. "Mas y Menos, si podemos!"

When they reached the first zombie, Menos rode astride his brother's shoulders. The creature turned to face them, and Menos punched his small hand directly through the stitching over the dead man's heart. The half rotted flesh parted infront of his fingers like soft, moldy cheese. His small hand slid past the thing's ribs and into the chest. Inside, the thing's lungs moved under his fingers as it continued to pump air unnecessarily in and out in a sickening parody of life. His bare hand went almost numb with cold and it brushed the creatures heart. He groped inside the chest cavity for an instant longer, and his hand closed around the Stark Industries motivator unit, and he ripped it free of its sutures. A gout of black goo follow his hand out of the monster's chest, followed by a small puff of black mist or smoke, which dissipated in the humid atmosphere. Menos looked at his arm, covered in black icor and rotten blood and cringed.

"Ew!" The thing collapsed in a heap on the stairs. They darted to the next zombie, ripping out its motivator. And the next. And the next.

Changeling had taken the form of an allosaur. Not his most powerful form, it was the largest one that would fit on top of the temple. Stomping, clawing, and biting, he would occasionally manage to disable a zombie. But mostly they flew from the pyramid, landing on the stone street hundreds of feet below. Most of them rose to climb the pyramid again, but when they did so, it was in a proper George Romero zombie shuffle, the myriad of broken bones slowing them down.

Cyborg blasted the stairs below him again and again, only to have the dead flow over the burst and steaming carcasses of their brethren without pause. On his wall, Speedy proved his name, sending shock-arrow, explosive arrow, and regular arrow one right after another into the chests of his opponents. But he was running out of arrows fast. Like him, Robin was keeping his wall clear. Out of explosive grenades he had broken out his bo staff and, like Changeling, was sending zombies down to the bottom of the building to slowing climb back up. There was a whisper of wind, a whir, and a yellow and scarlet blur jerked into Robin's field of vision.

Kid Flash placed Jinx on her feet. "Sorry we took so long. There were a _lot_ of trucks. You seem to have your hands full."

Robin panted, "So. . . start . . . ripping . . . out. . . . motivators . . . like Mas y Menos!"

"Um, okay. How 'bout I buy you a little breather, first."

He took the bo staff from Robin's hand and baseball-batted the closest zombie in the face. It staggered backward into the zombie behind it, and both of them tumbled down under the feet of the others. He dashed to the next one, and the one after that. Soon he'd cleared all four faces of the pyramid to a distance of about twenty feet. At that point, as fast as he could knock them down, they would surge forward. He dashed back to the top.

"I can keep this up for about ten minutes. After that, we'll be back where we started. Think fast. "He started to turn away.

"Wait. Where's Aqualad?"

"Ask her," he said, and went back to batting zombies. The rest of the boys panted while the girls continue to circle up high, blasting the dead to pieces. The size of the mob never seemed to get any smaller.

"I'm sorry guys. I never should have led you hear. We're in way over our heads. We don't need a team, we need an army."

"Fall back, then?" asked Speedy, looking up from where he was counting his arrows.

"I'm not sure we can," said Robin, pointing.

Away to the south, in the direction of the make shift airfield was a dense column of black smoke.

"I think they got the verti-jet."

"How far can Changeling and the girls carry us?"

"Not far enough. Darkness is coming. Do you want to try to fight those things in the jungle, in the dark? I'm sorry guys. I think it may be last stand time."

Author's Note: Yeah. It's a classic cliff-hanger. I suck.


	33. Into the Heart of Darkness

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

Dragonkyng – Saw that coming, did you?

Sonicthehedgewolf – These action scenes have me off my game. It's coming a lot slower.

Shugokage – Glad you're still with me.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Nah. I'm already dipping into the Marvel multiverse involving Stark Industries. It just fit better that Wayne Enterprises. Going Gundam would be a slice too much.

Lady Blackwolf – Yeah. I call on the wisdom of Albus Dumbledore on occasion, too.

JohnXGambit – Um, didn't follow all of that, but I got "good chapter."

Huntress of the Shadows – Well, unlike DC comics, I'm not sustained by the power of corporate profits, and can thus kill of major characters.

dylanbiancamano – Thanks. Now, Other Story? You've lost me.

RandamDalmation – Hey, when I'm doing drama, I can mange 2000 words a day. These action sequences really slow me down.

RavenFan – Sorry if I broke Aqualad for you. SOMEBODY had to be Reggie. I use the New Teen Titans Omnibus to fill in some back-story when the cartoon skipped it, but the Siberian expedition and the Halloween party were all me, I'm afraid. You're wildly unlikely to find Changeling dressed like Two-Face and Raven as Queen Maab anywhere else.

BoutsofInsanity – Review away. I can take it. If I like what you say, I'll do it. If I don't, I won't. But you can't piss me off here.

JMV1997 – Yeah. But kids grow up. He couldn't be taken seriously while still doing constant pratfalls.

* * *

From the Author:

Boy, quit pumping out 2000 words a day, and you people just dump me for the latest cutie with a high word count. Man, my page views have dropped like a rock. The reviews have also dropped way off. Is it getting boring? Sorry if the action sequences are a little stilted. New area for me. I think I'm improving. I've also quit trying to nail down all of the plot holes. I've been watching some cartoon footage and both the Titans and their villains do stupid stuff all the time. I've quit asking myself "Why doesn't he/she just do insert obvious solution here?" and am just writing the fight scenes as I see them in my head. For the curious, pull up the Battle of Rorke's Drift to read about where this fight happened in real life. During the Anglo-Zulo war, 150 British troops fought 4,000 Zulu warriors at a ford in the Buffalo river. It was just Zulus instead of cyber-zombies, and there were no super-powers.

In the chapter we have the return of Aqualad, an interesting exchange between Jinx and Kid Flash, and Raven's descent into the darkness.

Looking down the road, I've written an entertaining exchange between Raven and Bumblebee in the ladies room, the lady Titans discovering that Mento doesn't think much of creature comforts in the field, and that lemon I've been jerking you guys around about for so long.

* * *

Robin wiped blood from his lower lip. "Changeling, take the girls and get them out of here. The fliers can get out. The rest of us will hold their focus as long as we can."

Changeling's lip twisted with distain and he rolled his eyes. "Sorry Robin, you're breaking up. I can't quite hear you."

"Um, you're not using a radio. I'm right here."

"Duh." He stepping close, and put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "What the hell makes you think I've got enough power to drag Starfire away and leave you here to die?

He pointed to down the pyramid where Starfire continued to circle the old stone building. Crying "Hah! Hah! Hah!" as she rained starbolts down on the dead below. "She'd kick my ass from here to the border and beat YOU with the pieces."

Robin started to speak when Bumblebee suddenly landed near them.

"Get back in the air, Bumblebee, you can't do any good on the ground."

She held up her stingers, the tips discolored from heat. "Can't do any more good from the air anymore. I'm empty." She racked the weapons in the small of her back. "Got a stick I can use?"

"I want the flyers to get clear."

Bumblebee stood there, looking at him as though he'd said something incredibly stupid. She extended her hand expectantly.

"Fine!" he snarled, "You can have my staff when Kid Flash gets back." From his utility belt he produced his scarlet sword. "Okay, what have we got left, aside from an idiot with a stick?"

Speed said, "One explosive arrow, one electrical arrow, one knockout gas arrow, and three plain-ol' pointy objects. When they close again, I'm good for about thirty seconds, then I'll also be down to hitting zombies with a stick."

"Cyborg?"

"I'm down to 10% power on my primary battery. Once I go to my backup, none of my peripherals will work, just my arms and legs. It'll be punching and kicking."

"Changeling?"

"My teeth and claws work just fine. But you will not believe how nasty those things taste." He shuddered.

"Jinx?"

Jinx just stared down the temple stairs at the yellow and red blur that was keeping the entire horde at bay for these few minutes. He could make it out. He could be at the border in 10 minutes and Jump City in an hour, and make this all someone else's problem.

"Jinx?"

"Sorry," she said, "Um, I've got a full battery, so to speak, but I'm not sure just how useful bad luck hexes are going to be against those . . . things. But I'll try."

"Where's Aqualad?"

"He ditched us on the way back from the trucks. Told Flash to carry me here, and that he was going to check something out. Said he could 'smell water.'"

"Mmmm. Well, just as well. Nothing much he could do here. Hope it makes it back safe. Looks like Kid Flash is slowing down. Break's over."

Kid Flash completed one last circuit, then trotted back up to the ruined temple to stand next to Jinx. He panted as he handed the bo staff back to Robin, who passed it onto Bumblebee.

"Any, *puff-puff* genius breakthroughs?"

"Sorry. All we've figured out is that nobody's willing to make an orderly withdrawal if it means someone has to stay behind. We're pretty much all going to die here."

"Dammit," Cyborg cursed. "I KNOW I'm missing something. I've been missing it since the beginning."

"Jinx," panted Kid Flash, "This isn't what you signed on for. There's still time for me to carry you to the border once I catch my breath."

"You're coming back, aren't you?"

He looked up at her from where he stood, hands on his knees, panting.

"Have to."

"Then there's no point. You'd have to carry me back with you."

"That's that, then."

"Kid Flash, get Mas Y Menos to show you how they've been ripping those motivators out. It's got to be the grossest technique I've ever seen for fighting monsters, but it works. They stay down. I guess that's it. Here they come."

Without the speedster to golf them back down the building, the creeping terror once again began to swarm mindlessly upward. As the milling line of corpses leapt forward the Titans braced themselves for a final stand. The walking dead completely covered all four sides of the pyramid. They filled the streets of the city below as far as the Titans could see. The old building quivered again. Then vibrated, and then shook. The rumbling was audible now.

"What now?" said Robin. "Earthquake?"

"Don't think so," said Changeling "Feels wrong. It's not the earth, it's just the building, and, something . . . "

The rumbling was audible now.

"Hold onto something!" shouted Changeling. "Geyser!"

All four faces of the central temple ejected several thousand zombies in each of the four cardinal directions. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of barrels of water gushed forth from the ancient stone. And still gushed. Billions of gallons of water washed down the faces of the pyramid and filled the abandoned city streets with a brief, roaring torrent. Riding the wave out of the north passage was Aqualad, standing atop the raging flood. He eyes were wide open, his arms out to his sides. His teeth were bared in a silent snarl as the tendons on his neck stood out; his muscles bunched and knotted with the strain. He raised clawed hands to the sky and twisted his torso. The thundering cascade began to swirl in a vast vortex, tumbling the zombies about the square, and ultimately washing them through the streets and into the jungle. Aqualad crouched and shoved his arms away from himself with a loud "HA!" and the last of the water flooded away into the jungle. He dropped to one knee in the ruined temple. He panted.

Changeling spoke to Cyborg quietly. "Okay. That buys him one, no, two weeks of no 'tartar sauce' jokes. Did you know he could _do _that?"

Cyborg replied, "I knew he was an aquamancer, but I had no _idea_ he had that much mojo."

Aqualad panted some more. "I don't. Not really. That pretty much took everything I had. Unless you need some fish talked to, I'm not going to be good for anything for the next couple of days."

"Where did all the water come from?"

"I –puff- found a cenote deep under the temple. A big one. It's empty now, and will be years re-filling. And all I did was buy you time."

"Right," said Robin. "Zombies don't drown. They'll be back, and soon."

Raven landed. "Aqualad."

He replied guardedly, "Raven."

"Nice timing."

"Thanks. I got here as quick as I could."

She turned away. "Robin, I've got an idea."

"Yes?"

"When the Wizard-Priests put the Dark Heart here, they bound it in place. It's tied to the ley lines that cross under this temple. Bound with four mystic seals, one for each of the four mystical elements. I think that I can cut those bonds, and wrap the heart up. If we take it with us, at least Immortus won't be able to grow his army any further. He also needs it to re-animate the zombies we've put down."

"No," said Changeling. "If that thing is anything like you described, I don't want your mind anywhere near it."

Raven frowned at him. "That's not your call." She softened. "Trust me. I'm much better at this sort of thing than I am at dating."

"It does sound dangerous, Raven," Robin said. "You're the only one with that kind of talent. If you get in over your head, none of us will be able to help you."

"It _is _dangerous. If I'm disturbed in any way, it will almost certainly kill me, and probably everyone within about a mile. But we can't leave it behind. We can't destroy it. That means we have to take it with us. Don't disturb me while I'm in there."

"Raven . . ." said Changeling.

She glared at him again, then smiled.

"See you on the other side."

She seated herself in the lotus position, put up her hood, and went into a trance. Her soul-self separated from her body and drifted over to the Dark Heart. From within her own darkness, Raven could perceive the ancient bonds the old Wizard-Priests had used to hold the Dark Heart in place. They were mystically vast and powerful. It was no wonder Immortus and his people had worked with the Heart where it lay for centuries, rather than move it to some place more convenient. She began to pick at the bindings carefully. The men who had put this in place had had days, weeks even to plan elaborate ceremonial magics with carefully prescribed rituals and tharmeturgic ceremonies. Raven had ten minutes and no tools other than her mind.

"I feel like I'm doing brain surgery with a chainsaw," she thought. "No, wait. I'm disarming a bomb with an axe."

The bonds were large, powerful, and under a great deal of tension. Raven would have to act carefully, but very quickly to release the tension in a balanced manner to prevent the whole works from exploding in her face.

Changeling turned into a falcon briefly, then back to his human form. "Look! There!" he pointed.

The team looked at the treeline where he pointed. The walking corpses Aqualad had labored so hard to wash away were emerging from the jungle. Rather than bound forward in the frightening grasshopper-like leaps they had used before, they walked slowly, with a purpose. In ones and twos they exited the cover and walked back toward the center of the city.

One by one Raven cut the strands that bound the North and South bonds to the heart. Working as quickly as she dared, Raven's mind strained. She turned her attention to the East and West bonds, cutting some of the strands and looping them back around to connect with each other, forming a loop.

Outside, the streets once again began to fill with the walking dead. In spite of the hundreds destroyed, by blade, blast, cardio-ectomy, and by raging torrent, there seemed to be no end. Thousands filled the streets, all slowly working their way toward the pyramid. The Titans waited, unwilling to leave the choke point of the temple ruins.

Raven continued to work, speeding up a little. The mystic fibers binding the heart in place were fewer.

Outside, the walking dead reached the bottom of the pyramid, and stopped.

"Dammit," he said, "I know I'm missing something. I'd feel better about this if we could at least get word out to somebody."

"Well, we can't," said Aqualad. "You said it yourself. Comms interference is almost 100%. It's like all the bandwidth is being used."

"Yeah," said Cyborg, it's like . . . aw hell. Robin!"

Robin's head whipped around.

"Keep them off me for ten or fifteen minutes."

Robin looked down at the undulating horde.

"Um, right."

Cyborg popped open a panel on his left arm and began furiously typing with his right hand.

There was a click, and the Heart fell from its ageless location two inches to the wall below. The dark haze that had surrounded it vanished, and it became an obsidian bowl resting on the shattered old stone wall. Raven's soul-self flowed back into her body like black mercury, and she collapsed onto her side, her entire body going limp, striking the temple floor with a wet smacking sound.

Then there was another noise – a sort of rising whine. It warbled up and down in an eerie, atonal wail. The roof of one of the adjacent buildings cracked open, and a strange device rose up from inside it. At its core was a kiva, a ceremonial stone circle taken from one of the temples in the city. Some kind of high tech emitter had been bolted around its perimeter, the chase lights circling around it in time to the atonal wail. Atop the kiva were four ray cannons armed by eight living Immortus troopers. There were also two electronics consoles with technicians keeping careful watch. In the center of it all, General Immortus.

The wizened old man wore a _Wehrmacht-_style officer's uniform, red monocle, and breeches. He was spear-bald, and his face was covered with wrinkles and liver-spots. He remove dthe peaked cap from where he carried it beneath his arm and placed it squarely on his head. He smiled, and lifted his swagger-stick. Raven rolled onto her side and opened her eyes blearily. Unable to speak, she rose up on one elbow to glare at Immortus.

"Thank you, Miss Raven. You have been most helpful."

The old man gestured to one of his technicians. There was a sharp bang as a grappling hook flashed out from the array of equipment and snatched the Dark Heart from where it lay on the wall.

"Our shamen," continued the old man, "Lacked the skill necessary to safely remove the heart from where the Aztecs left it. Now that we can take it with us, we will no longer be tied to this temple, and can continue to grow our army as we march north. I congratulate you on your achievement. And now, I must leave you. I have much to do."

He turned to one of his technicians. "Kill them all."

The zombie horde rumbled forward like a rising tide. All restraints removed, they leaped forward, bounding twenty and thirty feet a time. Changeling took a protective stance over Raven's fallen body. Each of the Titans gripped their chosen weapon and braced their feet. Starfire swooped down to hover next to her friends. Her starbolts were much smaller. She had bags under her eyes and her chest rose and fell as she gasped for air.

General Immortus' upper lip curled into a smirk.


	34. Hacking - And the Voyage Home

Author's Notes –

Shout Out's –

DragonKying – The edge of your toilet? I'm not sure I want to know where you people are when you read this stuff.

Shadico – Thanks for your observation. I'm glad you're liking the density and the pacing. Tell me, are my zombies gross enough? Or should they have been grosser?

Dylanbiancamano – When I have time. Jokers Wild is a pretty big read, and I don't have the free time I did before this story ate my life.

JMV1997 – I'm sorry I've confused you. Can you be more specific?

Shugokage – Immortus has had six thousand years of military experience. It makes him hard to write, 'cause I haven't had any. I'm glad you like the way he's turned out.

Justafly – Nope. Fanfiction authors thrive on feedback. Any feedback. We're not particular. Just don't ignore us. J

Lord Anubus Judge of the Dead – Thanks!

Dizzy – Yeah, you're not the only one who's mentioned the cliff hangers.

RandomDalmatioan326 – Thanks for the encouragement.

V – Yeah. I'm hearing you.

Lord Vukodlak – Yeah. It's a classic trope.

Hairul – But you don't need all that hardware when you got one good hacker and a careless LAN admin.

* * *

Ok folks. With this chapter we will be wrapping up in the jungles of Central America. Be aware that I'm deliberately skipping over some tedious housekeeping. What happens to the live Immortus troopers? Who deals with all the dead bodies left in the jungle? Why can't Starfire just fly everbody out? Because then we wouldn't have a story. In this chapter we'll see Robin and Starfire buried alive under a sea of walking dead. Another exhibition of Cyborg's genius. And, of course, amazing heroics by the Changeling.

Looking ahead, we have some critical decisions by Raven, not all of which she's going to tell us, girl talk with Bumblebee, and vegetarian pizza.

* * *

The raging dead moved closer, flowing up the sides of the pyramid like a tidal bore. As the first line reached the ten foot mark, Jinx inhaled deeply, raised both her hands and snapped her fingers. There was a massive purple flare as the stone ledges on all four faces crumbled under the feet, trapping the first row of zombies in place, by burying them up to their needs and forming a wall of zombies. Their undead brothers, unable to pass them, began to crowd them from behind.

"Good work," said Robin.

Jinx smiled and drew a deep breath. Her hands were shaking. "Big hex," she said. "Can't keep that up long."

"You and the rest of us," Robin replied with a fatalistic smile.

"Incoming," shouted Bumblebee, who then adroitly wielded Robin's staff like a baseball bat, knocking a leaping zombie back over the wall of the dead down below them.

"Three more," shouted Kid Flash, pointing.

From close in above, Starfire's voice could be heard, "HAH! HAH! HAH!" As she adroitly punched out the motivators of three more leaping zombies with three carefully placed starbolts.

But Starfire had thrown hundreds, perhaps thousands of starbolts in the last hour. And nobody, no matter how passionate, could possibly maintain that much Righteous Fury for much longer. Her starbolts were now barely larger than her fists, and a pale green. Zombie icor no longer burst in huge gouts from their backs, but oozed from smoking holes in their chests.

"Just a few more minutes," Cyborg muttered, his nose buried in his one-handed keyboard. "I'm gonna have this."

There was a tearing sound. Appalled, Jinx looked down at her wall of undead as one by one, with supernatural strength, they wrenched their legs out of her trap, tearing off their own feet to do so. Most fell to their knees, continuing their crawl up the steep sides. Their rotting brethren leapfrogged them and bounded the rest of the way, and the Titans were completely engaged again.

Bumblebee swung Robin's staff like a demented recruit at Spring Training, baseball-batting zombie after zombie down the steep incline, only to have them roll to a stop a few feet away, stopped by the legs of the other raging dead, to rise and turn back toward her.

Raven raised her head and forced her eyes to focus. She lifted one hand from where she lay and extended it.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zynthos," she intoned, her voice hoarse.

A flash of dark energy extended from her hand, neatly ripping the motivator out of the chest of a leaping zombie, taking it out of the air like clay pigeon in flight. Then she collapsed back onto two elbows, chest heaving.

Robin swung his scarlet sword like a knight of old, dismembering and decapitating zombies left and right as they closed in. Soon there would be no more room to swing.

Aqualad stood his ground and provided perhaps the most creative solution. Unarmed and far from his element, he stood, legs firmly grounded and a shoulder width apart, waiting. When a zombie would leap for him, he'd grab it by its outstretched arms and, using its own momentum against it, spin around and fling it far out over the encroaching throng.

Speedy pinned three motivators with his conventional arrows, punched a hole in the crowd with his one explosive arrow, and then knocked down a knot of zombies with his remaining electrical arrow. Sparks few as the creatures thrashed and writhed in the electrical field. Then he shifted his grip on his bow and prepared to use it as a club.

It was, perhaps, Mas y Menos who applied the most bizarre solution to the problem. If one of the team dropped a zombie inside the perimeter, they would grab it and drag it over next to Cyborg. If an active monster managed to get inside, they would rip out its motivator to render it inactive, and the drag it over to Cyborg. In this way, they slowly built a fortress of dead meat around the machine-man, hoping to buy him a few more seconds.

Aqualad had known it would happen. He'd known since the last assault had begun. Weaponless, his technique would only work on one zombie at a time. When two hit him from different directions, he flung the first off the pyramid, but the second hit him in a flying tackle, knocking him off balance. Two more piled on and forced him to the ground. He rose for a moment, lifting the three dead men with him, but when five more jumped on, he was no longer able to force his muscles to lift the increasingly heavy pile of dead and rotting meat. The fish – man in the blue unitard vanished under a pile of rotting meat.

It was a small mistake. The wall of the dead had gotten too tall for Mas y Menos to casually fling more bodies on top of and they stopped for an instant to get better footing. In that instant, Mas was seized by a zombie, and pulled away into the throng.

"Mas!" shouted Menos, and vanished among the raging dead, looking for his brother.

Robin wielded the scarlet sword adroitly, but it was not his chosen weapon. Fingers, hands, and arms flew in abundance, but he was not quite strong enough to drive the sword through the rib-cages of his opponents quickly enough to stay ahead of them. One grabbed his sword arm and hauled him sideways. As he turned to try to wrench himself free, two more grabbed his other arm, holding him in place. Then three more leapt on him, and he disappeared beneath the rising tide.

"Robin!" screamed Starfire, from her close hover. She shot down towards the heaving pile of dead meat and began to unpile them with brutal efficiency. But she was too close. Rotting hands reached up behind her and grabbed her ankles. She shrieked and began to pepper them with small starbolts. "Hah! Hah! Hah!" she cried. Starfire might have been stronger than she looked, but she was also exhausted, and still only massed about 105 pounds. Six and then eight of the dead climbed her legs and hauled her to the ground, covering her with their flabby flesh as the pulled at her limbs.

Jinx shrieked as the top half of a corpse grabbed her by the ankles. Kid Flash whirled to go to her aid, but ran face-first into the festering chest cavity of an enormous dead man. The thing threw its arms around Kid Flash and the two tumbled down into the crowd, invisible in the threshing mess.

Changeling's allosaur form paused and looked around. He'd seen the others fall. Bumblebee was nowhere to be seen. There was only the small space around him where Raven crouched, exhausted, and Cyborg worked. He looked down at Raven's tiny form huddled on the rough-hewn stones below him.

"Last resort time," he thought.

He morphed, risking an instant in his human form.

"I love you," he said, and closed his eyes.

His jaw began to lengthen, and his pupils vanished. His spine twisted and stretched. Coarse fir popped out of his skin and grew long, and shaggy. His muscles knotted and thickened. His claws burst into vast talons on his hands and his feet. His teeth grew, lengthened and fused into fangs like teather-stakes. An enormous hump of muscle sprouted from between his shoulder blades and neck. His ears flared out, batlike, while the rest of his head became leonine in proportion. His arms became obscenely long, and heavily muscled. His legs were thick as tree-trunks. For the first time in millions of years, something _new_ stood under the Central American sun.

It's amazing how fast your mind works when you don't have to _think_. You already _know._ The Beast had no name for itself. If he had to, he would probably call himself "First Male," or "Alpha." He didn't think in any way that Cyborg, Robin, or even Changeling would understand. IHedidn't have Changeling's memories in any clear or definable way. His brain just wasn't built that way. But he inherited certain . . . imperatives from "The Other," as he thought of Changeling. The Alpha Female, the Mate, The Bearer-of-The-Cubs-To-Be, or, more simply, "Mine," was weary, and injured or sick, and could not fight or flee. And, as usual, the Other had allowed things to become far more complicated than they needed to be. The beta males and beta females of The Pack were down. It would be simplicity itself to take Mine and leap into the jungle, leaving behind this clumsy pack of Carrion-That-Walks. He could return both of them to _his _territory, far to the north. But he would not. Mine had nailed his feet to the ground as effectively as if they were sunk in concrete. He could smell the fear on her. It radiated off like the stink of the Carrion-That-Walks. She feared for the Pack more than herself. The idea of being a lone animal again filled her with far more terror than facing the Long Night that comes to all animals in the end. And Mine was right. You do not abandon the pack to jackals. All this passed through the mind of The Beast in the time it takes the slow minds of humans to blink. For the Beast didn't need to _think._ He _knew."_

The Beast threw his head back and roared his defiance. His voice echoed off of the stone walls of the city. It rang from the surrounding hillsides. He raised gigantic claws to the sky and called his fury to the jungle. Small flocks of birds as far as five miles away were startled into flight by the unholy sound. Panthers and other large predators raised their heads to listen for a moment, and then slunk away into the brush. Something new was declaring territory, and the lesser predators wanted _nothing _to do with it.

Immortus raised an eyebrow. In all his thousands of years commanding troops, this was something _new._ He gestured to one of his technicians, and the kiva flew a little higher.

The Beast began to lay about himself with fang and claw. His enormous arms swept up two and three zombies at a time, crushing them together into a foul paste, and dashing them to the ground. He spun, first on one heel, then the other, pulling them in from all sides. Pieces, small and large, scattered hither and yon, spattering their fellows with foul juices. The dead knew no fear. They felt no pain. And they never got tired.

Neither did the Beast. Where normal animals or mortal men would tire or die from wounds, the primal animal simply fought on. Grey ooze began to pile up at his feet as he continued to widen the circle of empty space around him.

Behind him, inside his fortress of dead meat, and within the circle of safety provided by the raging Beast, Cyborg spoke, softly.

"Oh man, I don't believe it. Of all the stupid, cocky, careless. . . ."

His voice rose. "Hey Immortus! I've got you now you son of a _bitch!"_

And his finger pressed the "Enter" key.

All the walking dead froze in place. The ones leaping through the air landed on the stone with moist thumping sounds, some bursting from the impact. Sudden silence reigned. General Immortus spun on his technicians.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The two techs scrambled frantically to their consoles and began to hammer away.

"Oh no, boys. Those doors are all locked down now," said Cyborg. "You're not getting back in that way. It'll take a factory reset to clear those passwords now. And you're not going to have time for that."

The Beast started to step away, and then stepped back. With exquisite care, he picked Raven up and draped her over one shoulder. Then he methodically began to walk around the shattered temple, picking up zombies, twisting their heads off, and throwing them down the pyramid. One by one, he dug out the fallen Titans. He carefully laid the Pack side by side at the center of the temple. He put Raven on the ground beside them and whined quietly.

Cyborg looked up at Immortus. "You _really_ need to get with the times, old man. If you're going to use a industry standard Stark Industries wireless router, you really need to _change the default password._"

"What the devil is he talking about?"

Cyborg didn't bother to speak. He dialed his sonic cannon back up to ten, and blasted the ring around the Kiva. At the same time, Speedy fired his last arrow – the knockout gas arrow. It burst in the passenger area of the stone circle just as Cyborg's blast tore the ring loose from the stone. The kiva tumbled end over end back into the building where it had emerged from.

The Beast whined again. He could lick their wounds, but it wouldn't help much. The Pack were much weaker than the Alpha. That was the Way of Things. But Mine would not be pleased if they died of their wounds, and the fact that it was the Way would not make her any happier. The Other knew more about these things. He had fixed things like it before. The Beast looked around. He felt the sun on his fur, and smelled the wind. Behind the charnel reek of the Carrion-That-Walks, he could smell the clean scent of the jungle. It called to him. And his own territory to the north. Then he looked down at Raven. There really weren't any questions. He leaned down and filled his nostrils with her scent. And then he called the Other.

Changeling opened his eyes. His brain wasn't built the way the Beast's was, and he couldn't ever remember what he'd done when in that form. At least not clearly. But the Beast left him with certain . . . imperatives. The top of the building had been cleared of the walking dead. His friends and Raven had been carefully laid out. None were bleeding that he could see. And General Immortus' dead troops were frozen in their tracks. Cyborg's sonic cannon rang out just as Speedy fired his arrow. He turned just in time to see the kiva crash back into the building out of which it had come.

"NO!" he shouted. "Immortus!"

He turned to Cyborg, "Take care of the others!"

He sprang off of the pyramid, morphing into a streaking falcon as he did. He headed straight into the rubble after the pyramid.

Cyborg watched the dead for a moment. In about three second, every single one of them collapsed like a sack of wet bat guano. He checked each of the fallen Titans. All were badly bruised and clawed. Some had bites taken out of them. But all had survived. They'd been down so little time and the dead packed in so close they'd gotten in each others way. He cleaned and patched their wounds. He debated waiting for Robin to wait before relocating his shoulder again.

"But," he thought, "If he didn't learn the first time, he's not going to learn now."

The pain of the shoulder going back into the socket woke the Boy Wonder up.

"How is everyone?"

"They're going to whine a lot when they wake up. But they're going to wake up. Except Raven. Her I don't know about. She's not physically injured, just . . . "

"Physically exhausted," came Raven's flat voice. "I hope to Azar we're done. I don't have enough left blow out a match."

Cyborg smiled. "No more walking dead, anyway. I crashed their system. They were using a wireless network to broadcast command signals to the corpses. I hacked it. Well, not much hacking. For a military genius, Immortus is kind of stupid. He left his wireless router set to the default password: password."

"We have had the luck," said Starfire.

"Changeling," rasped Raven, sitting up and looking around. "Where's Changeling?"

"There," said Cyborg. "He left me to take care of you guys and chased Immortus and his troopers into that building.

Raven rolled onto her knees and then shakily hauled herself to her feet. Starfire and Bumblebee followed. Raven stooped over and picked up a rock.

"Raven," asked Cyborg, "What are you going to do with that?"

"I'm going to throw it at Immortus. It's all I've got left."

She headed for the stairs. Bumblebee hefted Robin's staff and followed. Starfire concentrated, hard, and pulled up two starbolts the size of lemons in her palms. Cyborg just shook his head as, one by one, his patients dragged themselves upright and limped, gimped, or wobbled their way after the bad guy. He looked at his power gauge. "5%" left on his mains. Then he followed them.

Anticlimax. They found Changeling by following the swearing. He turned out to have a widely varied vocabulary. He was on the ground floor of the building, surrounded by the smashed remains of the fallen kiva. Scattered about were the sleeping forms of Immortus' crew, knocked out by Speedy's gas arrow. But there was no sign of the Big Bad.

"What happened?" Cyborg asked.

Changeling didn't let up swearing but instead thrust an old mess of leather and hoses at Cyborg. It was an old-style World War II Wehrmacht gas mask.

"But where . . .?"

Changeling kicked the rubble on the floor.

"How many mole-machines can one dirt-bag own?" he snarled.

"You mean?"

"I got here just in time to see it disappear into the floor. He'll be a half-mile away by now, and in any direction. He can stay submerged for days. Weeks even. Cyborg began to dig.

"Don't bother. It fills in the tunnel after itself. Maybe Terra could have caught him, but we're not going to do it. Son of a BITCH."

"Dude," said Cyborg, "It's still a win. The cybernetic-zombie army is dead. The Dark Heart's buried under the wreckage, so there won't be any more zombies. And nobody died."

Changeling's eyes went wide. "Raven?"

He looked around in a near panic.

"I'm right here," she said.

Kid Flash and the twins were as tired as anybody, but at Robin's suggestion, they'd run ahead and confirmed that the verti-jet was still intact. The smoke plume from earlier had apparently been the burning guard shack, although when Immortus had decamped he'd activated some sort of self-destruct feature on his air yacht and couriers. Mento would not be pleased with the results on his paint job.

Wearily, the titans climbed back into their transport and started the long flight back to Steel City.

They weren't airborne more than fifteen minutes before there was a problem.

"What do you mean, 'no showers,'" shouted Bumblebee to Cyborg.

"Hey," he said sharply, "I didn't design this bird. Just eat something and try to get some sleep. We'll be home in a few hours."

Changeling rummaged in a locker. "Mento usually keeps provisions . . . AH!"

He leaned back in triumph and help up handfuls of foil packets.

"M.R.E.'s" said Bumblebee incredulously.

"Mento's old, cheap, and doesn't like to 'waste resources on creature comforts.' But you should see the on-board chemlab!"

"Just gimme the food."

The Titans all ate and then collapsed into the padded chairs to sleep. Too exhausted to think and not bothering to worry about what people thought, she found Changeling in the rearmost seat, climbed into his lap, and went to sleep with his arms around her. Right before she embraced sleep, she whispered, "I heard what you said."

"Sorry," he said. "I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I needed to say it before . . ."

"Don't be sorry."

She snuggled close. Cyborg cut the lights down to half.

Five hours later, Starfire was the first to awaken. She inhaled.

"Ew. I smell like the inside of a Trovarian blortworm. She rose and headed aft. On her way she passed a bleary-eyed Jinx as she sat next to a sleeping Wally.

"Problem?" asked Jinx.

"No," said Starfire, "I am merely going to the bathroom to do the 'damage control.' I am the 'ick' and wish to not be the 'ick' when boyfriend Robin awakens."

"Not a bad idea," said Jinx, waking up a little more. "No showers, but let's see if we can at least partially repair the hotness index in the sinks before the boys wake up."

By silent consensus the next pair to use the bathroom to tidy up was Raven and Bumblebee.

"Oh Azar," said Raven, taking one look in the mirror. "I look like I took a shower in rotten blood."

"You are not really rockin' the exploding corpse look, girl."

Raven glared at her for a second, and then took off her cloak. She went to hang it on a hook and then looked more closely. Shrugging she removed the jewel from it, and stuffed the disgusting garment into the trashcan.

The girls each began to try to remove as much of the filth from their arms faces and necks as they could.

"So," said Bumblebee carefully. "The sleeping arrangements in the back row caught some people's attention this trip."

Raven froze, and then plunged her head under the faucet. The sink ran black. When she emerged, Bumblebee was still there, watching her with a gimlet eye.

"So, you are dating everybody's favorite shape shifter now?"

Raven flushed maroon. "It's complicated."

Bumblebee rolled her eyes.

"Girl, I _saw_ you crawl into his lap last night. You moved like you were goin' _home."_

Raven rinsed her hair again.

Bumblebee continued. "Complicated, huh? Bit of advice girlfriend?"

"What," said Raven.

"A man who lets you sleep in his lap covered in rotten blood, with bits and pieces of zombie dripping off of you, hair like a corpse-bird's nest, and smelling like an open grave and is _still attracted to you_ is probably a 'keeper,' you know what I'm saying? Men don't hang around forever. If you feel the way I think you do, you best 'uncomplicate' things and tell him so. And soon. Or he's going to look for a woman who's not so 'complicated.'"

Raven pulled out the tiny subcompact that Jane had insisted she start carrying. In it were a solitary tube of lip gloss, a tiny, black eyeliner cartridge, some very pale purple eye shadow, and a miniscule amount of perfume. She applied the emergency perfume behind her ears, on her neck, and on her wrists.

"Well," she thought, "At least now I don't smell like an open grave."

She took the seat next Changeling for the rest of the flight home. She spent the time alternately watching Changeling sleep and thinking about what Bumblebee had said.

By the time they dropped off the Titans East in Steel City, Raven had made a decision. She sought some privacy and broke out her Titans communicator. She put it into cell phone mode and made a call.

"Chef Blackstock, I need a favor."


	35. Breaking Out An Old Skill Set

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

RandomDalmatian326 – Glad you're having a good time. Hope the vibes don't make you all 'splodey. Today's offering should be right up your alley.

Dragonkyng – Finally.

TripleTheCheese – Me, too. But I broke Chekov's law, and had to pay the penalty.

Lord Vukodlak – Oh, there's an emergency shower, but it discharges directly in the workspace to a floor drain. It would make a giant mess if used casually.

The Fat Lantern – Glad to hear from you again. Yeah, the default passwords solution came from the day job, where I run into it from time to time in my consulting.

Reader123 – Yeah – The Titan's ages are not consistent through the story. It's not all carelessness; I realized that I was aging them too quickly ,and didn't clean up by after myself after I made some corrections.

HinaLuvLuvChan – Whohoo! Crying readers! One of the greatest accomplishments of a writer. Right after getting paid.

Reader12 (Again) – Great to hear from you. Glad you're liking it.

Huntress of the Shadows – Yeah. That's life, y'know? Douchbags don't ever seem to get all that's coming to them. I still think my zombies should have been grosser.

Shadico – Really, gross enough? I'm glad you liked the stuff I wrote for the Beast. And yeah, Bumblebee does not mince words.

shugokage – Thanks. It was actually inspired by post band competition trips. Not nearly as stressful as fighting for your life, but getting up before dawn, traveling a long distance, and giving an all-out performance at the very top of your skill set, and then getting back on a bus produces a similar set of exhaustion. I just remember the bus full of teenagers draped all over each other, no longer caring about who was looking at what, and just wanting to sleeeeeep . . . .

JOHNXgambit – Precisely. A sort of "MY HOUSE! Anybody have a problem with that?" sort of thing.

Sergeant Daniel - You're probably right. I've got some really poniant scenes in my head, but we're coming to a close.

Guest – You're very kind. We've got at least 4 -5 chapters left. I'll wrap things up neatly and then there will be a haitus while I pursue another project.

V for Anonymous – Thanks. I considered a Changeling vs. Immortus fight, but two things stopped me. First I was sick of action scenes. Second, Immortus is a tactical and strategic genius. But he's an old man. Changeling would snap him like a twig. Not much of a fight scene. Then I remembered how the old serial adventure stories used to end. Immortus pulled a "Ming the Merciless."

BBLover – A fairly simple one.

I' . –Glad you like it.

Justafly – Okay, that's new. First time anyone's told me I'm doing a great job, and they're not going to follow me any more. What's up with that? Ah well.

* * *

From the Author:

I had a lot of fun writing this one. As you may have guessed, I like writing shower scenes, so you're getting another one. We have an off-screen cameo by Chef Blackstock again, just because I like his attitude. Then I think I may surprise you. Raven's going to bust out a skill-set we haven't seen before that makes perfect sense for her background. She's an incredibly intelligent women. Did she spend 13 years in/on Azarath and learn _nothing_ but meditation? I don't think so.

Looking ahead: Raven makes a big mistake. Mumbo-Jumbo makes a personal appearance in an unexpected venue. A giant fist fight in a location you'll never expect between people that will flabbergast you. A stolen vehicle. Then Raven fixes her mistake. All in the same chapter so you people won't get bent at me for jerking you around.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

When the vertijet landed at Titan Tower, the Titans immediately split up to their own rooms. Raven walked into her room and stripped out of the filthy leotard and walked over to her full-length mirror. She looked at herself dispassionately. Coldly. Dispassionately. Her feet were small, but slightly long for her height. Elegant, she was forced to admit. Her eyes traveled upward. Allowing for the dried zombie spooge on her legs, they had filled out nicely. Her hips flared out in a suitable girly fashion, and her waist nipped in below her breasts. The hair on her mons was sparse, and matched the purple of her hair and eyebrows. Her breasts were small but full, and rode high on her chest. Her arms were shapely her neck elegant, and her face was, well, reserved. She desperately needed a shower and to wash her hair. But she'd slept on the plane and was, by and large feeling pretty good, even though it was getting on toward evening. She licked her lips nervously.

She grabbed a large lavender bath sheet from her closet and wrapped it modestly around her torso. Bath sheets are huge, and Raven was small. It covered her from her from her armpits to just above her knees. She walked across and down the hall, and knocked on Changeling's door.

"Oh, Hi Raven."

"Hi," she said quietly.

Changeling continued, "You want to grab the shower first? You got the worst of the flying zombie spooge."

"I feel like an idiot," she thought. But she considered about how she'd seen Starfire interact with Robin. She looked down at the floor. Her silken hair framed her face as she looked up at him through her hair.

"Well, actually, I was thinking you might come help me."

"I – wah?"

"Well, I've got his crap all over me, and I need someone to wash my back."

"But, Starfire . . ."

"Starfire," she said shyly, "and Robin are both, um, busy."

He gathered himself.

"You sure?" he smiled.

"Well," she said, looking up, "we've showered together before you know."

"I remember," he grinned toothily.

"Perv," she said, but she smiled as she said it.

"Lemme grab a towel."

The couple walked quickly to the bathroom they shared, and walked inside. Raven turned on the incandescent lights by the mirror, but left the big fluorescents off. Changeling raised an eyebrow.

Raven smiled a small, lopsided smile. "I'm, um, pale enough already. Florescent light washes the grey out of my skin, and leaves me looking like a corpse. I figure you've seen enough of them for one day."

He smiled. "You look good in any light."

"I sure hope so," she thought.

As he had so long ago, he leaned into the spacious shower and adjusted the water.

"Let me know if it's too hot or too cold," he said, quietly.

"Right," she said. And swallowed nervously.

Then Raven dropped her towel.[1]

Changeling's jaw dropped. His eyes bugged out.

"What?" ask Raven, innocently.

"I, you, I expected underwear, or . . . or a bathing suit, or . . . something."

"Why?" She asked. We've showered together before. We've shared a bed for weeks. And you've seen me naked before. Don't think I've forgotten the time you took advantage of me in that cave in Siberia and stripped all my clothes off."

Her eyes twinkled.

"I did not! Well, I mean, I did, but I didn't. But . . ."

Changeling was having a hard time forming an argument. Or a coherent thought. The proximity of the cute naked girl was making it impossible for him to focus on anything else.

"It wasn't like that!" he finally managed.

Raven snorted. Then a tiny, almost inaudible giggle drifted through the room. She covered her mouth. "You really shouldn't leave that chain lying around like that if you don't want people yanking on it."

She stepped into the shower and leaned out the door.

"Coming?"

After a moment's consideration, Changeling stripped off his Incredible Hulk boxes and joined Raven under the streaming hot water. Steam rose, filling the bathroom. Raven slid by Changeling, brushing her body against him as she claimed the privilege, "Ladies first," and stepped under the water.

The hot steaming waters flowed over her head, turning her purple hair almost black. The water cascaded over her, sweeping away the dried sweat of the Central American jungle, and more importantly, the dried blood and ichor spattered on Raven by a host of zombies.

"Shampoo," she said, holding out a hand.

He continued to boggle for a moment, then, "Oh, right. He turned to grab the bottle, neatly labeled, "Raven's. Beast Boy – do _not_ touch," and handed it to her.

The water ran over her head to part briefly over her Chakra stone, and then down over her face. Knots in her hair that Changeling couldn't see began to let loose. Raven inhaled and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. Her breasts rose as water ran down her slender body. Changeling swallowed. The she leaned back farther to rinse.

"Azar! That felt good. She parted her hair down the center and pushed it behind her ears and looked up at him.

"Poofy?" she said.

"Um, no, your hair's lying straight down."

She sighed. "No, I mean HAND me my shower poofy."

He turned to look behind him.

"Oh, the scrubby thing."

It was, of course, lavender.

She squeezed a generous dollop of shower gel onto it and rubbed it briskly. White suds began to form and run over her wrist. She worked the foam over her skin on both arms, her chest, and torso.

She smiled a tiny Raven smile. "'Scuse me. A girl's got have a _little_ privacy."

She turned her back to him and did mysterious things to her front, the leaned over to work her legs. The water ran down over her birthmark and over the curve of her full, rounded ass. Changeling looked closer.

"Hey Raven," he said. "About this birthmark. It looks . . ."

She spun suddenly and handed him the scrubby. "Get to work," she said, and smiled.

Bemused, he held the scrubby under the hot water and soaped it back up.

She leaned forward and put her hands against the wall as he soaped up her back. He started in the center of her back and scrubbed in ever expanding circles. Then he worked her shoulder blades.

"The back of my neck," she said, lifting her head.

"But you,"

"You're going to turn me down?"

"Um, no."

"Mmmmm. Lower."

Obediently he swirled the coarse scrubby in wide circles around her back, lower down.

"That just about does it, Raven," he said, with reluctance. No more zombie goo to be seen, dry or, um, moist."

She sighed. Without turning, she said, "You don't think I'm . . . too . . . gross do you?'"

"What?" he said, still rubbing. "That makes no sense."

"Mmmmm," she said. "Lower. You know what I mean. I guess, I mean, I'm just imagining that you _must _have showered with Mitzi, or Fritzi, or Agnes? At some point?"

"' A gentleman does not discuss such things.'"

"Fair enough, but, you know, in theory, I have a hard time imagining any of them being, well, covered in zombie goo. I'm not, you know, gross, am I? I mean, if it's not zombie goo, it's alien space dog slobber or giant mutant moth spooge, or something from Starfire's lunchbox."

"What? No! You're compelling. I don't think I've ever seen a woman look better covered in rotten zombie blood. Really."

"Thanks." She said, and turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"What?" He said, distractedly.

"Changeling, that feels great, but you can probably stop washing my ass now."

"Oh!" He yanked his hand away, soapsuds splattering. "Sorry."

She winked. Raven actually winked.

"It's okay. I enjoyed it."

"Raven, what's going on? I mean, I think I know what's going on, but this isn't like you. Are you ok?"

Raven sighed and dropped her head. "I'm sorry. I suck at this. I'm just . . . trying to have fun, and I've never really . . . even tried to do something like this before. I don't DO fun. And I certainly don't . . . flirt."

"NO!" he interrupted. "You don't suck at all. I just. That is. Um. Not to put too fine a point on it, but, you are, well, sober, right?"

She smiled and colored slightly. "Yes," she said as she looked up. "I'm sober. Now you get clean."

As she stepped behind him her wet breasts brushed against his back. He grinned toothily.

"Yes, ma'am."

Changeling made quick work of scrubbing off the sweat, grass stains, and zombie goop from his hair and body.

"Okay," she said. "Now turn around."

He turned and she reached up to start with his neck and shoulders. The soap foamed up some more.

"Wow," she thought, as she began to work on his shoulder. "I've really lost perspective, hanging out with Cyborg. He may not be as big as Cy, or Robin, but he's _not_ small. He's sure bigger than _me_. And strong."

She set aside the scrubby and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"Wow," she said. "You've really got some knots in here.

"Yeah," he said. "That business right at the end of the fight kinda took it out of me. Still trying to let go of all the tension. I _hate_ using that form. I always end up confused and really sore."

She laughed. "I can't do anything about the confusion, but I tell you what: after we dry off, I'll see what I can do about the 'sore' part."

She grabbed the scrubby again.

"Now hold still."

She went work on his shoulder blades and down his spine.

"Oh man," he thought, "That feels _good."_

Then she grinned a dark little grin, and ran the scrubby between his ass cheeks.

"Gahhh!" he said, and his eye bugged out.

She opened the shower door.

"Finish rinsing and come dry my back."

"Bossy much?"

She flushed maroon. "Sorry."

He grinned. "Just a sec."

He closed the door, morphed into a terrier, shook himself mostly dry, and morphed back.

"Nice trick."

"Saves on laundry."

She toweled off her hair first, her damp skin glistening in the warm light. Changeling licked his lips.

"Turn around," he said.

The iridescent droplets shone line diamonds on her pale flesh in the soft light of the room. He toweled them off with some small regret.

She wrapped her hair in a smaller towel, her breasts rising again as she lifted her arms over her head. She turned to face him, taking the bath sheet from his hands.

"I guess you like me," she said, glancing down.

"The phrase," he said, with great asperity, is "'I see you're glad to see me.' I just showered naked with a beautiful girl. I make no apologies. And I'm too old go diving for towels."

"Fair enough," she grinned.

"So what now?" he said. "This seems to be your party."

"Go change into something loose and comfortable, and meet me in my room. Don't wear anything with elastic."

"Why?"

"I told you: I'm going to do something about those knots."

Bemused, Changeling returned to his room. With the elastic prohibition, his choices were limited. After a few minutes searching, he decided on the bottom half of a martial arts gi and a t shirt. Then he headed back to Raven's room.

He raised his hand and tapped quietly on her door. Her voice sounded softly from within.

"Come in."

He came in the door and stopped. The room was normally dimly lit, but this was, different. Raven had lit a dozen candles that bathed the room in a warm, golden light, utterly unlike the gray light that normally filled the room. The warm light put gentle highlights on Raven's normally disturbing artwork. Her taste in ravens, demon-masks, and the assorted bizarre was oddly softened by the gentle light.

Raven stood by her bed near the head. Her hair was pulled back in a tiny pony tail and she wore a black satin robe that broke about mid thigh.

"Hi again," she smiled.

"Um. Hi."

There was a large, flat, white box resting on a small chest at the foot of Raven's bed. Beside it were two large-bowl wineglasses and an open bottle of red wine.

"Um, Raven? Where did all that come from?"

She replied, "I called ahead for it. MRE's may be filling, but they're not "food." Chef Blackstock still feels like he owes us a favor. The wine was his idea. He says it's a 'shiraz.' His note says it will be able to hold it's own with the Italian pie." She smiled. "I don't think he was capable of writing the word 'pizza.'"

"That guy's going to get arrested if he keeps feeding alcohol to minors."

Raven responded, "I can practically hear him now, 'shut up and drink your wine like a civilized human being. Two glasses of wine each is hardly going to send you on a drunked rampage."

"So – what's in the box?" asked Changeling.

"I wanted something special, but simple. He said on the phone he would make an exception just for us."

Inside the box was a thin, neopolitan-style pizza.

Changeling sniffed. "Mmmmm. Tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, San Marzano tomatoes, and . . ."

He sniffed again, "Geeze. I think that's actual mozzarella di bufala campnana! Raven . . . I think that's a sixty-dollar pizza."

"When did _you_ become such a gourmet?"

"I'm not. But," he tapped his nose, "The nose, knows."

They ate dinner and drank the bitter wine in quiet companionship, talking in low tones about the recent adventure. Raven reclined on the foot of her bed, her feet curled under her short satin robe. Changeling sat on the floor looking up at her. Raven was slightly discomfited. She hadn't realized it before, but Changeling always looked her directly in the eye. Well, when he wasn't looking at her chest, anyway. Most people avoided eye-contact with her. She smiled. Time to dust off a very old skill-set.

Raven lifted a remote. From a hidden sound system began a soft, low, flute, playing a simple pentatonic tune. The sound of gentle rain softly filled the background.

"Lie down," she said. "On your stomach. I really should be using a table, but I think the bed is firm enough."

"Wait," he said, "you're a massagist?"

She closed her eyes as though pained. "Masseuse. And yes. I spent the first thirteen years of my life in a monastery. Did you think I spent it _all_ learning to meditate? You think I'm _that_ slow a student?"

"No, of course not. But – nobody touches Raven. Well, almost nobody. I'm just surprised."

She sighed. "I shouldn't complain. I never tell anybody anything about myself. How could I expect you to know? Ok, so, like most monastic traditions, the monks of Azarath recognized the three sides to person: the mind, the body, and the spirit. So, study, exercise, and meditation are all required for a balanced whole. Massage is part of the study of the body. That's also where the healing comes from."

"Phyical, huh? So, is there a mysterious Azarathian Kung-Fu we don't know about?"

She shook her head. "You know better. My teachers were pacifists to a fault. We studied an art similar to tai chi, but with no combat form. Or if there was one, I never heard of it. Of course, I . . . left long before I could have become an adept. My training's actually only about a third of the way done. Enough of that. Lose the shirt and lie down."

She'd removed the duvet, so he lay down on the sheets, face down. He gathered a couple of pillows and folded his arms, laying his head on his arms.

"What's with the water?" he asked, as he glanced at her bedside table.

"It's a warm water bath for my oil. I selected grapeseed oil for you with sandalwood. It's a nice, masculine scent. I hope the scent's not too strong for you."

She rubbed the warm oil into her hands, then kneeling on the bed, put both hands on the small of his back. Alternating her hands back and forth across his back, she gently spread the oil across his back, and all the way up to his neck. The she moved to the head of the bed and knelt above him, a knee to either side of his head. She placed her palms gently on the back of his neck and slid them down and back, spreading his muscles along the tops of his shoulder blade with her thumbs. One. Two. Three strokes. Then she placed both hands flat against his back, between his shoulder blades and pushed her hands back toward his feet, in a long, continuous stroke all the way down his back, until the tips of her fingers barely went into his pants at the curve of his ass. Then a second stroke, along the same pattern, but with her weight on her thumbs, providing firm, but not hard pressure.

Changeling sighed and his back muscles already began to break loose. Raven's room was warm and her hands were strong. His skin seemed to almost tingle as her hands ran along his frame.

Raven ran her left thumb and hand down the left side of Changeling's spine, digging in her thumb ever so lightly. Then she pulled her left arm back and repeated the motion with her right. She repeated the strokes, again and again, moving a little more quickly. Then she slid backwards and move around to his left side. Working with her whole hands, flat, she stroked down from his neck, one hand after the other, slowly. Then she started the stroke again, pressing down with splayed fingers. He sighed again.

"Hmmm," she murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking. You've got a big knot in your trapezius here. Try to relax."

Raven placed her hand broadly over the offending knot and pressed gently. She rubbed her hand in a small circle, then wider, her other hand on top, generating more pressure.

"Ah," he said.

"Sorry," she replied.

"No, it's okay. Don't stop. I was just surprised."

Placing her small hands back over the offending knot, Raven pressed down firmly, just short of the point of pain, and held it for about thirty seconds. Then she released it. She rubbed in circles again for a moment, then pressed and held again. After repeating the pattern five times, she was rewarded with a sharp, sudden sigh from Changeling. Changeling suddenly felt an unexpected warmth spread through his shoulder as the knot let go. Once the knot released, she returned to the edge of his shoulder blade and repeated her open handed strokes, this time going from the edge to the spine. She switched to the other shoulder and then worked her way down his back in long, gentle strokes until she reached the small of his back. Each time she found a knot, she repeated the press-and-release pattern. As each knot let go, Changeling sighed again.

She turned the waistband of his gi down, revealing the crack of his ass. She threw one leg over his thighs and kneeled over his back. Resting her palms on his ass cheeks, she pushed her weight down on her thumbs and brushed them up toward the small of his back in alternating strokes. She moved again, back to his left side, and using her entire hands, flat, she performed alternating strokes across the small of his back, working her way up his spine. She then did three or four long, slow strokes, pushing her thumbs up the outside of his spine. She kneaded his back muscles on both sides his spine in the soft tissue between his ups and his floating ribs. She found fewer knots here, but remained astonished at home firm his muscles were. She gentle worked the muscles over his rib cage and then went back to his neck. Spreading her fingers, she pressed and kneaded gently around and in between each of his vertebrae. Once that was done, she started back up at his neck and stroked her hand from neck to butt, one, two, three, four, five times. At the end of the last stroke, she took her fingers free of his back and cast them in the four cardinal directions.

"Okay," she said, "Now I need you to turn over an lose the pants.

"Um, okay. But you said 'no elastic,' so, um, I'm . . . commando."

"Changeling, we just showered together. Unless there's something you're not telling me, there shouldn't be any new."

"I know, I just . . . I didn't want you to be . . . surprised."

He remained tense, so she covered his groin with a small towel, and he began to relax some more. She worked his legs, his arms, and his torso with the same expertise that she'd displayed on his back. Time passed, and she released more knots and trigger points until he lay, limp and utterly relaxed.

She sat back, heaved a sigh, and wiped her forehead.

"Done," she said. "That was a lot more work than I expected."

Silence.

"Changeling?"

Silence. She moved back up to the head of the bed. His head had flopped to one side. He was breathing deeply and evenly. A tiny stream of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. A small snore emerged. Raven's head dropped onto her chest.

"Of course," she thought. "Get a man completely relaxed, and what does he do? He falls asleep."

She leaned over next to his ear.

"Changeling?" she whispered.

Silence.

"Changeling," she whispered a little louder, poking his shoulder.

Silence.

"Beast Boy!" she snapped, shaking him.

His eyes popped open and he sat up sharply.

"Aw man, tell me I didn't fall asleep."

"Okay," she said dryly, "I won't tell you that you fell asleep."

There was a pause. "Sorry Raven. I've just never been so relaxed in my life. I'm sorry I missed part of it."

She smiled, wiping the sweat off her face again.

"It's okay. It's kind of a compliment."

"Your turn," she said.

"What?"

"Hey – I fought yesterday, too. Then I rode for seven hours on a hard, lumpy seat."

"Hey now. YOU picked the lap. And who's fault was it that it was lumpy?"

She turned maroon again.

"Never mind that."

She slowly slid the satin robe down her body. Again nude, she stretched out on the bed.

"Not the sandalwood. The jasmine for me."

* * *

[1] This is known as "hitting a boy in the face with a baseball bat." While certain to get his attention, most flirting authorities consider it to lack subtlety and style. Also sometimes referred to as "pitching overhand," or "hitting with a 200 pound tuna."


	36. Taking Her Cues from Discovery Channel

Author's Note:

Update: 10/17/2012

Lord Vukodlak points out that I made a couple of omissions in the technical conversation at the end of the story. I have expanded on the dialogue to make it more technically accurate, as this is a vital issue for Raven.

Shout Outs:

Omeganian: Mae West. I've always been a fan of the classics. If he'd been wearing pants, it would have been a better line.

Shadico: Hot? Hot? That's how we write before breakfast where I'm from. I start to turn it up a little in this chapter. And when we get into the lemon, it'll get _really_ hot.

Hairul the Nightrage Beast: That depends on the strokes and depth. Alas, I don't know anything about cupping, so I can't write about it. Yes, that means that I do know some things about exploding corpses. Please try not to wig out.

Lord Vukodlak: A good point.

V for Anonymous: Hopefully there is adequate polish on this one for you.

JOHNXGambit: Two schwings up. I could hope for no higher praise.

Kringeline: There is not thing to excuse. I hope she does well on tour. That you found the chapter forced and awkward is ironic to me. The previous three chapters _were_ forced, and felt awkward to me. The previous chapter poured out of my keyboard naturally and flowed easily.

Shugokage: Well, _I'm_ certainly enjoying it.

JMV1997: Me, too. It gets better.

LadyFelton1994: Any more time spent in the shower and it will seem REALLY contrived. And besides, they'd get all pruney.

Sergeant Daniel: Glad you like it. I write daily, but don't have time to manage 2000 words a day most days, so updates aren't as frequent as I would like.

Guest: Good to hear from you.

TitanLover3353: I'm glad you liked it. Writing Raven flirting is really hard without taking her completely Out of Character. I hope I'm making it believable. Thanks for the compliment. I really should have taken more time on the action scenes. I could have given them more depth. And Immortus more lines. But I just wanted them done.

Victorthe3rd: What? They're naked, in bed, surrounded by candlelight, and they each have an_ entire bottle_ of massage oil. What do you want from me? Never mind. You're going to get it.

Chowbo: Really, I don't know what you people are talking about. Isn't _obvious_ what's going to happen next?

yumiulrichlovers – Glad you liked it.

* * *

A/N: Okay – I will admit, the temptation to have the Titan alert go off or have Cyborg banging on the door in the middle of this or the previous chapter. Wouldn't that have been funny? Well, I'd have been amused, anyway. I've been imagining the howls of frustration I'd be able to hear from here. But I've discovered that I'm not quite that much of an ass. In this chapter, we finish the massage, although with far fewer details. I don't want to be repetitive. We will see two teenagers work each other into a state of total abandon and a secret will escape.

Looking down the road, well, I'm skipping the lemon again. I'll do it next in the alternative forum. Now listen, when people asked me for the URL before, they didn't get the format correctly. I let it slide last time. But you're supposed to _double-dog pinky swear_, and I mean it this time. But that can wait until I get it written. I'll post a marker chapter when it's done. After the lemon, we'll have a visit from Mumbo Jumbo, a couple of fist fights, a visit to Nevermore, and the correction of a horrible mistake.

* * *

"What?" he pulled his head back and blinked startled.

"Hey – I fought yesterday, too. Then I rode for seven hours trying to sleep on a hard, lumpy seat."

"Hey now," he replied, "_You_ picked the lap. And whose fault was it that it was lumpy?"

She turned maroon again, turning her face away.

"Never mind that."

She slowly slid the satin robe down her body. The smooth fabric whispered softly against her skin as it drifted toward the sheets, a sound so soft only Changeling's enhanced hearing could have detected it. Again nude, she stretched out on the bed. She was so tiny that she was able to stretch her arms straight above her head and barely touch her half-tester headboard, but her toes still didn't hang off the edge of the bed. She pulled her arms back down and rolled onto her stomach, resting her head on a pillow. Her fine silken hair, rapidly drying now, fell forward over her eyes. She rolled her shoulders. Her scent came to his nose on a drifting eddy of stirred air. Old books with leather covers.

"Not the sandalwood," she murmured, "the lavender for me."

"Have you forgotten something, Raven?"

"What?" She said, and rolled half-way over and looked at him through her hair.

"These," he said, and stretched out his hands. "I've got . . . these."

He held out his hands to her, palms up. She could see calluses and scars, earned in training and combat. As hands go, they were large and rough, especially for his height. His palms were a light lime green. He slowly turned them over. The backs of his hands were a darker shamrock green, and also marked with dark scars. But it was his fingertips to which her eyes were drawn. There they were; the emblems of his animal nature: semi-retractable claws. She'd seen them before. Smooth and shiny, the Lincoln green weapons shined in the candlelight.

"They're very sharp. And I can't shift them away, or retract them all the way. I don't want to hurt you."

She raised one corner of her mouth in a half-grin. "I guess you'll have to be careful then. Don't think you're going to talk your way out of this."

She rolled back onto her stomach and waited. He took the warm oil and rubbed it into his hands. Carefully, he knelt above her head, and placed his hands down on either side of her spine, on her shoulder blades. When he leaned over her, her scent hit him again.

"Fang and claw," he thought. "She's been sweating. This is not good. Musk and lavender."

As always when he held her, he was immediately struck by how tiny she was. Her shoulder blades fit under his palms. Her personality was so strong and so powerful; he just . . . forgot how small her actual person was. He pressed down ever so gently and swept his hands down her back toward the curve of her ass.

She trembled a little. With a quiet laugh she said, "I'm a grown woman, Changeling. I won't break. Press harder."

He leaned his weight down on his hands and swept down her back again. Breath whooshed out of her. One, two, three strokes down her back to spread the oil evenly. His stomach flip-flopped as her pheromones filled the air around her. She smelled of candles and mystery.

"His hands," Raven thought vaguely, "are so very warm."

He worked much the same pattern on her back as Raven had on his. She quietly told him what to look for to recognize the trigger points, and how hard to press to get them to let go. The scents in the air, the warmth of the room, and the touch of his hands let Raven let go of her own doubts and to relax as well. His powerful hands worked her flesh down across her ass cheeks, her thighs, and her calves. As he worked, Raven heard a very, very low rumble. It was a low, even, soft sound.

"What's that noise?" Raven said.

"I don't hear anything," replied Changeling, not missing a stroke. And this was Jump City: the town where marionettes come to life and steal people's souls to hijack their bodies. Anything the slightest bit weird could mean the difference between life and death. Changeling continued to work, undisturbed. The low rumble continued.

"That's weird," she thought. His hearing's sharper than mine. He _can't_ be missing that."

Changeling cleared a big trigger point in one of her feet. "Uh, oh. Wow." She sighed and turned her head.

"Wait," she said, "Are you . . . purring?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. The purring grew a little louder.

She settled in to enjoy the rest of the massage.

"'The Flip' is coming up," she thought. "I was kinda worried before, but I think I'm ready now."

Then he kissed her back, right between her shoulder blades.

Her eyes popped open wide as a little jolt ran through her. And it was not relaxing _at all_.

He kissed her back again, a small kiss on each of her vertebrae. It took a little while. And he didn't hurry. When he got to the small of her back and could no longer pick out her vertebrae, he stopped, slid down a little farther. He gently placed the very tip of this tongue just at the top of her ass cheeks and very, very lightly ran it back up her spine. Raven gasped. Then he placed his teeth against her ear and whispered, "Damn. You taste very, _very_ good." Raven felt his lips and teeth moving against her ear.

And she did. She tasted very good indeed. He inhaled again. Beeswax. Candle smoke. Myrrh. Ancient knowledge and youthful passion. His hands tightened on her body.

She gasped again as he kissed the back of her neck. At the same time, his claws bit into her back below her ribs. The claw tips burned her skin like frozen ice-picks as they traced up over her back and up her ribs, leaving delicate white lines that slowly, slowly faded.

Raven rolled over, her lips an inch from his. "You have very fine control."

"Yeah, well, about that control? It's fading. Isn't there a famous quote about not calling up that which you cannot put back down again or something?"

"From "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward:" 'Do not call up that which you cannot put down.' It's about not summoning creatures you can't control. Why?"

"'Cause you're getting real close to doing just that."

She'd never noticed before, but the sakutia virus that had changed him hadn't changed the pigment in his gums or palette. His fangs were very, very white against his red, red gums. And the looked really . . . sharp. His emerald green eyes were narrowed as he looked at her. His nostrils flared. She'd seen him fight legions of walking dead, a vast army of fire demons, and monsters from outer space. He'd never looked more dangerous than he looked right this second. And it looked good on him. Real good. She raised her face to his and he kissed her. Her heart raced.

He could taste the bitter wine on her lips, and the sweetness that was always there. They were cool, like her skin. He watched her eyes close. His tongue explored her lips, soft and gentle. Wet and refreshing, they parted. Her little teeth were sharp, and also open to him. Their tongues dueled. His hand rested on her hip, and then slid to her breast, his claws again leaving white lines up her soft grey skin.

She turned her head, jerking her mouth away, gasping.

"Wait," she said.

He froze. His eyes narrowed, and then one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He rolled his weight all the way off of her, propping himself on one elbow. "All right," his voice was low, raspy. "What seems to be the problem?"

She looked away, her hair falling over her face. In the flickering candle light all he could see was the glint of the candle flames upon her eyes. "I – I just wanted to warn . . . I don't want to disappoint you."

He frowned. The sheets rustled as he shifted his weight. "What are you babbling about?"

"My ex . . . my other . . . my first . . . Aqualad, that is, Garth, dumped me because I wasn't any . . . good at . . . this. I guess I just wanted to lower your expectations before we went any farther."

The low purr rumbled again. She could feel it in her torso where his body pressed up against her own. Oh there was no doubt. He was purring. But not like a kitten. It was low, coarse, and savage. He smiled again, not the toothy grin she'd known for so many years, but the dangerous display of his fangs, like the one he'd shown Aqualad at Halloween, but slightly . . . different.

"Raven," he said, in that raspy, coarse voice. It was almost a whisper. "Making love is a _skill._ It takes _practice. _Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ is good at it their first time, or their second time. And it's different with each lover. What's good for you and me won't necessarily work for you and someone else. Exploring that is part of the whole _point._"

She blinked at him. "Okay, now you're weirding _me_ out. Who are you and what have you done with Changeling?"

"Oh, _I _didn't do anything. _You_ did this. That guy passed out about the time your towel hit the floor. This is what's left."

"Ah. So this is my fault is it?"

"Utterly." He kissed her again. Then he pulled his lips away from hers and pressed small, gentle kisses along her jaw line. She pulled away gently and looked up at him. Then she brushed her hair aside and rolled her head to her left, exposing her neck. Her skin was smooth and stretched tight. Instinctively he knew exactly where her jugular vein pulsed. Close to the surface. Vulnerable to fang and claw. He could almost see it beneath her skin.

He inhaled deeply. Her scent was almost all he could smell now. Autumn night. Crushed leaves and apples. She was _really_ pushing his buttons. "You do realize," he told her, "that among most predators, that's a submission ritual, don't you?"

Her look smoldered at him through half-closed purple eyes. "Maybe," she replied, "or maybe among demons it represents an extension of trust. I'm interested to see what you're going to do about it."

She traced her own index finger over her jugular, lightly drawing a blunt fingernail over that spot that Aqualad had found to such good effect. Her skin tingled and her muscles trembled. Hopefully, Changeling would . . . His head darted forward, suddenly and blindingly fast.

"Azar! Metrion! And Trigon!" she thought. Her eyes flew open and her mouth gaped as she inhaled with a gasp. He knew _exactly_ where that spot was. She felt his teeth, sharp and sudden. But at the same time so carefully, carefully controlled. She grabbed his head with both hands pulled him in tighter against her neck. Unable to form coherent words, she attempted and failed to get out a 'no hickies' request. She turned her head to one side and ran her tongue up the side of his long, pointed ear. She would never, ever admit it. But she _did_ dig the ears. She nipped one with her teeth. He suddenly jerked his teeth away from her neck with a snarl.

"Something wrong?"

"No," he said, his voice, if possible, even lower. "Nothing at all is wrong."

He pressed his knee between hers and she parted her legs. He brought his own thigh up to rub against her mons, pressing hard. He lowered his hand to her waist and then brought his claws up her ribs to cup her breasts. He gently brushed his thumbs across her nipples.

"Ah!" she said, and arched her back. Her stomach flip-flopped and her hands shook. Her head was spinning. She was going to lose it soon.

"Stop," she said, suddenly.

"Now what?" he almost snarled.

"There was one more thing."

"Yes?" His eyes were half-lidded. Sullen.

"Well, um," she said in a very small voice. "I don't know your name. You never told me. Only sluts sleep with boys whose names they don't know. Could you . . . tell me your name?"

It was his turn to freeze. "Can't this wait? 'Till . . . after. Or tomorrow maybe?"

She was looking up at him, utterly naked, legs spread, all soft skin and open expression. All of her barriers were own and she was completely open to him, physically, mentally, and emotionally. "Please?"

She said it quietly, softly. No fury. No wheedling. Just a soft, "Please." It was obviously very important. He closed his eye and heaved a gigantic sigh.

"Garfield." His voice was very quiet.

"Wait, what?" she looked up at him with one raised eyebrow, amethyst eyes quizzical. "You're kidding."

"Garfield. Mark. Logan," he said, pronouncing each word with clarity and precision. My birth parents were traditional folks, and it's an old family name."

"Garfield. Like the fat, lasagna scarfing cat," Raven said, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"I prefer," he said stiffly, "to say 'Garfield,' like the President. "Abolitionist, able military commander, civil-rights advocate."

She smiled, "C'mere Mister President," and pulled his lips down to hers. "I won't say it again. You clearly don't like it."

He kissed her, gently at first, and then with a rising passion. "Oh, you're going to say it again. You're going to scream it, soon."

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, as he had never done before. Essence of endless night. The scent of artic winter. It was here somewhere. He'd found hints of it before. She was probably unaware of it, and yet still unconsciously tried to hide it. He'd never tell her he'd found it. If she was aware of it, she wouldn't want anyone to know. But there it was, faintly, below it all, beyond any human detection, and there for Garfield alone: brimstone. Oh, yes, he did like the bad girls.

He tore himself away, pulling back and pulling in a lungful of fresh air.

"Okay, Raven," he said, making eye contact. "All kidding aside."

He shifted his other knee, both now between Raven's own. Her back rested on his arms, which held her small body. His weight, almost double hers, stood poised. She shook her hair back and looked into his eyes. He was breathing deeply.

"We should probably stop this now. This has all been good fun, and I hope there's more to come but –"

She broke eye contact and looked at his shoulder. Then, with no warning, she raised her head, bared her small, even, white teeth, and bit his trapezius muscle. Hard.

Things got fairly savage after that.[1]

In the aftermath, they quietly together, spooning.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"It's nothing," she shivered. "It's just a few scratches. And some bite marks. I'm sorry about your back, though. I'll heal it up when I can focus."

She shivered again.

He moved to get the duvet, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"Don't leave yet."

"I just want to get the blanket for you," he replied.

She shivered a third time. "I'm not cold."

"Then why do you keep shivering?"

"Aftershocks," she said. "So, you say that gets better with more practice?"

"Um, that's what I thought. If it's true, I'm not sure my nervous system will bear it out."

They lay together, sweat drying on their bodies.

"I hurt you. I don't like the bruises."

She pulled away, rolled over, and looking him in the eye.

"Garfield," she said, "I knew exactly what I was doing. I watch the Discovery Channel. I knew what would happen when I bit you then. I got exactly what I asked for, and I did it on purpose. So shut. Up."

And she kissed them. Then she grew quiet. Something was wrong. She was suddenly afraid.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said.

He could smell the gathering fear coming off of her.

"I call bullshit. You're afraid."

"Garfield? What if I'm pregnant? We didn't take any precautions. I mean, I completely lost control."

She wasn't just concerned, she was afraid, and becoming terrified. He could smell it on her. He thought carefully. This might not end well for him, but he was going to work herself into a state and stay that way for weeks if he didn't say something. But fixing this was going to cost him another one of his secrets.

"Like I would do that to you; you're not."

She turned her head to frown up at him. "You can't know that."

"Actually," he said, tapping his nose, "I can. You aren't fertile today. You don't smell like it. You're in about the sixth day of your cycle. You never ovulate until about day fourteen. I never would have started all of that if you were fertile. I mean, it's technically possible, but you're really, really regular, and the odds of your cycle changing right now today . . . ." He trailed off at the expression on her face.

She glared. "You can smell when I'm fertile?"

He hunched his head sheepishly. "Um. Yes?"

"And when I ovulate?"

"And when I'm on my period?"

"Er, ah, uh-huh."

"What else can you smell?"

He stuttered a moment. "Well, Raven, the human body's got a really complicated set of scent signatures, and your background makes you utterly unique. It's hard to tell what your scents all mean," he hedged.

"I'm finding this really hard to believe."

"Well," he said, "There are dogs that can sense oncoming seizures in epilepsy patients. Cadaver dogs that can smell one dried bone in a giant pile of leaves. You know I have a heightened sense of smell, and your body gives off pheromones on purpose. Even humans have been known to smell the difference in pregnant women. Why is it so hard to believe?"

"Mostly because I don't like it. How long has this been going on?"

"Since you were about thirteen or fourteen, from the day we met."

"Do you have any _idea_ how big an invasion of my privacy that is?"

He began to get a little frustrated.

"Yes, I do. But it's not my fault. I don't sneak up behind you and smell your neck, or sniff the door-frame of your room. It's more like you walk around the Tower yelling your head off. I can't help but hear it. What do you expect me to do, walk around with a clothespin on my nose?"

The image was so absurd that Raven smiled in spite of herself.

"You don't . . . talk about that stuff, you know, with the other guys, do you?"

"'A gentleman doesn't discuss such things.' I had to tell Robin some stuff in general terms. But only broad generalities and only him, the one time."

She settled back into his arms. "I guess that's . . . okay. It's still disturbing, though."

"What can I say? I'm not like other guys."

* * *

[1] Sorry guys. I've already danced way over the line I'm willing to expose other people's minor daughters to. I'll knock out the rest of the lemon in the next few days and let you know when it's available on the Alternate Venue.


	37. New Lemon Posted

From the Author:

I have completed the second Lemon, and it is available for consenting adults over at the alternative forum. For me to release the URL to the lemon, you must e-mail me a request at lamont dot cranston1066 -at- . And last time, a bunch of you guys failed to double-dog pinky swear. You have to double dog pinky swear that you're over 18 so that when your Dad shows up on my doorstep with a shotgun (or worse, a lawyer) I can at least point at what a little liar you are.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." - Lamont Cranston


	38. A Horrible Mistake In Judgement

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

Silver Mist – Thanks, I appreciate it. I thought that was great line to end that little scene on as I transitioned to the lemon.

Shugokage – Well, there's a little more than that to go. After all, Raven's brain is full of spiders and snakes and she really SUCKS at interpersonal relationships of all kinds.

HinaLuvLuvChan – Thanks. You can find any lemons I write at www dot adultfanfiction dot net. Just search for Lamont Cranston or Love in Shades of Green and Grey. Anyone who wants the direct link can e-mail me at lamont dot Cranston –at- gmail dot com.

TitanLover3353 – I'm glad you liked it. The lemon has been posted. Please let me know if you can't find it.

Theluckyshot – glad you're still with me. Let me know if you need help finding the Director's Cut version.

V for Anonymous – Sorry; didn't mean to make your feel bad.

Hairul the Nightrage Beast – Hope you liked it.

Boutsofinsanity42 – Thanks!

Ladyfelton1994 – I use www dot adultfanfiction dot net for all of my NC-17 and above material. Let me know if you have trouble finding it.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – I hope never to disappoint.

Omeganian – OTLTA? Sorry, that reference is out of my scope.

Shadico – I'm glad I didn't disappoint.

Guest – Well, we've already met the girl in the Rose-colored cloak in an earlier visit to Nevermore. Good news: In our next visit, she's GONE ENTIRELY. As an individual, anyway.

JohnXGambit – It was actually more of a "If we're gonna stop, we need to stop now 'cause my ability to look like a good sport while taking no for an answer is really gonna take a hit at the next stage."

Lord Vukodlak – Okay. I retconned it to fix your technical objections.

Kringeline – Action scenes are a growth area for me. You found the massage chapter awkward? Odd. It was really easy for me to write, and I thought knowledge of massage and alternative medicine would fit in really well with someone who spent the first thirteen years of her life in a monastery. Glad you like the lead in to the Lemon.

Chobo – It was sorely tempting to do something exactly like that, but I thought it might make some people's brains explode.

NicoleThePenguin – Maybe, if Raven doesn't screw it up.

Dragonkyng – Your wish is my command. I have two chapters locked and loaded and a third in the concept stage that will probably be done before I go to bed. PM'd you Lemon information.

Nikki14091 – Search for "Lamont Cranston" or "Love in Shades of Green and Grey" at www dot adultfanfiction dot net. Or e-mail me at lamont dot cranston1066 –at- gmail dot com for a direct link.

LadyFelton1994 – See above. I did my very best to do everthing but get intimate fluids on the ceiling.

Shadico – Drink it for me. I've got a fifth of Svedka over here, so I'm covered for now. But thanks.

Dizzy – Glad you like it.

RosesAreRed201 – See above, but PM me if you have trouble finding it.

Guest – Aye, and that's the rub. Without actually counting noses, I'd says that the Dudes almost all liked how I approached their first intimate encounter. But only about 25% of the Babes did. I fear, however, that Raven was reaping the results of seven unrequited years in the Friend Zone. Garfield was not at his most tender. Besides, she had a _good_ time. Maybe next time he'll be able to take more time at it.

Zeta Marz – Sorry I missed your e-mail. I'll shoot you a PM.

Dylanbiancamano – Thank you. I was going for "leave a smoking crater." If I could have thought of a way to make it hotter, I would have.

Lady Blackwolf – I'm not all that nervous, really. I'm more concerned with getting blacklisted here at fanfiction dot net.

Harrassle – Sorry you didn't like it. I hate to disappoint. Maybe next time.

Kellygirl6754 – I'll send you a PM, but you may want to skip it. Ladies don't seem to like it.

Nuka – Show instead of tell. I thought I did. I'd go back and re-write, but the characters are driving me on. Maybe next time I'll get it.

MissHB – Glad you liked it. The women are running hot-and-cold on it. Most of the guys liked it. And maybe Raven will return the favor next time.

RavenFan – Aw, hell no. As much as I would like for this thing to quit sucking off all my creative energy, as it has for MONTHS, I'm not done yet. I've got at least three more scenes I want to write and concepts for two or three more. That will be at least five more chapters and looks like it may run to ten. I keep thinking I'm close to getting done and it keeps stretching out. Thanks for sticking with me.

* * *

From the Author – First off, sorry some folks are having so much trouble finding my lemon basket. I'm actually less worried about upset fathers and the law than I am about getting reported to the authorities on this site and getting blackballed. I like it here and I'm having a lot of fun. I do not need my nose swatted with a rolled up newspaper and I don't want to have to start over on another site. That said, if you're looking for my lemon basket, you can find it over on www dot adult fan fiction dot net. Just take out the spaces and change the dots to .'s. Search for Lamont Cranston or _Love in Shades of Green and Grey._"

Another note on the lemon. Sorry I let so many ladies down. I'm afraid that was written entire from a male perspective. A male perspective that has done his time in The Friend Zone. Seven years of unrequited passion doesn't have the patience for fluff. Changeling and I will do better next time, we promise.

I also want to thank you again for sticking with me this far. This work has stretched out far farther than I initially thought it would and I wouldn't have made it this far without your support. Be aware, though, that I'm nowhere near the fan fiction dot net record. There's apparently an "Oh My Goddess" fic of over two MILLION words. And we have our own Teen Titans fic, _These_Black_Eyes_ that is over two million words and is completed. I haven't read it. To put that in perspective, _Moby Dick_ has only 212,758 words, and _Les Miserables_ only 530,981. If Melville and Hugo can tell those stories in under a million words, maybe some of us are over-doing it. At some point WAAAY down the road, I may come back to this monster and edit it down.

That brings me to a suggestion: these author's notes are taking up a _lot_ of space. I imagine scrolling down to get to the meat of the chapter is getting old. So let me ask you guys a question: if I set up a Community on fan fiction dot net, how many of you would participate? Essentially, all of my responses and this chatty stuff would go over there, and the author's notes would be tiny announcements. What do you think?

Lemonade aside, if you like romance novels, this chapter is going to chap your ass. Raven's going to screw up. I was planning to wrap it up on one chapter, but, as usual, Raven had her own ideas about how her life was going to go, and it's going to take her three to sort this out. The good news is that a second chapter is already on disk and will follow this one shortly. The third is locked and loaded, and I anticipate finishing it no later than Monday night.

Looking down the road, we have a visit to Nevermore, a fight with an old foe for which Raven will be eternally grateful, and action scenes outdoors in a thunderstorm. Oh, and a songfic. Sorry. I really should work without music.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

Raven rose early the next morning and was astonished at the damage that they had done to her bed. Huge rents had been opened in the sheets. Her pillows were battered, the curtains on her half-tester showed inordinate wear, and there were stains all over the bedclothes whose origin she didn't care to contemplate. She smiled gently at the green elf that lay in her bed. She walked around to check his back.

"Oh Azar," she gasped. "He looks like he's be _flogged._" Her nail marks streaked from his spine out to the edge of his ribcage, not once or twice, but over and over again. He had never flinched nor had he complained once. She snorted lightly; Garth had whined about one little burn. She reached out her hand and found her center. It was oddly easy to do this morning. Normally such focus took far more effort. Her hands flickered with a gentle blue glow and the marks on his back flared, and then faded away. With almost no effort, she also removed the bite marks on his shoulders. Then she slipped on the black satin robe that lay cast on the floor, and left the room.

It was still dark out, but the eastern horizon beyond the El Diablo Mountains to the east of Jump City was showing a band of grey. Dawn would not be far off. She climbed the stairs to the rooftop. She needed to center herself, because she had a lot to think about, and she had to make some decisions _right now._ She seated her bare buttocks on the rooftops, bent her legs into the lotus position and turn her eyes to the East.

"Azar grant me clarity," she thought. And she began to chant her mantra.

Changeling woke some time later. The full light of early morning was shining across Raven's bed.

"Heh," he thought, "We never closed the curtains."

He wasn't alarmed to find Raven gone. Early morning meditation had been her habit since the day he'd met her. Often, she'd be on the roof by sunrise. In fact, she'd be finishing soon. He stepped across the hall and pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He's go up and be there to greet her when she came out of her trance. Changeling's bare feet mounted the cold steel stairs to the rooftop access door. It opened with a slight creak that no amount of Cyborg's patented WD-450 formula could eliminate. There she was, the sun was over the horizon, but not high. The entire horizon as far as he could see in any direction was dyed a blood red. A gentle breeze blew from the east, and there was moisture on the wind. Odd, that, because there was nothing but desert out there. The Badlands.

Raven hovered, levitating. Her black satin robe flowed and ebbed on the currents of her mind, occasionally revealing the tantalizing glimpse of a rock-hard ass-cheek, but mostly just hinting at the wonderfully athletic body underneath it. His feet made light crunching sounds on the gravel as he walked up behind her. Then he waited, saying nothing, waiting for her to finish. Unexpectedly, it only took moments. Raven exhaled and put her feet down, standing. Her back still to him, she gathered her robe about her, unfolded her legs, and stood. She put her hair back behind her ears and turned to face him.

"We need to talk."

His stomach dropped. "No man," he thought, "has _ever_ gotten anything good news out of a conversation that has started with those four words."

"I can't do this; I'm sorry."

"Raven! What the hell? What did I _do?_"

She closed her eyes. "Nothing. Everything. You're wonderful. You're everything I could have wanted. But you're too dangerous to me."

"What? I? Who?" he just gaped, shaking his head.

Her affect became utterly flat. Past emotionless. Like a robot. "Please understand. Any child born of my body will be psychically and spiritually linked to Trigon. Like me, they would be a potential portal into our world. He's not dead. He's not destroyed. He's shattered and banished. But they would have to spend a lifetime repressing and learning to control their emotions. I will not do to any child what has been done to me."

He stared at her, mouth slightly open, hands hanging slackly at his sides.

"Worse, if they failed. If I couldn't train them, if they didn't learn, and if Trigon returned, it would be my fault again. I've already murdered everyone on earth once. I won't do it again."

His mouth slowly closed. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "So," he said, "I'm getting 'it's not you, it's me.' Didn't see that one coming."

"I'll sleep in my own bed from now on. I'll find another way to deal with the nightmares. I'm sorry."

She turned and walked toward the rooftop door. She heard a crunch of gravel as he dropped to one knee. She didn't stop. She flinched as a second crunch echoed louder in the morning silence. He punched the rooftop, hard enough to break bones. He didn't speak, and she didn't turn or stop. She felt the wave of rage, fury, and hurt flow over her. It washed over her like a flood. But then it dribbled away until there was nothing. She put her hand on the doorknob.

"He'll be all right," she thought. "He's _always_ all right." She reached back with her mind. There was nothing there but stone. Or a ball of iron. She turned the knob and went down the stairs.

When Raven entered her room, the scent of their lovemaking hit her in the face like a slap. She spent some time changing the sheets and burning incense to get rid of the smell. Then she bathed, inside and out, and finally had some herbal tea before starting to meditate again. Normally her morning meditation was enough to center her, but today she kept being disturbed by an irrational feeling of disquiet.

"He'll be okay; he's _always_ ok."

As she drifted in and out of nirvana, Raven could occasionally sense the Changeling on the edge of her consciousness. He was moving about the tower, showing more activity than he normally did. At least, she was pretty sure it was Changeling. The Elf that was normally there was gone. All she could feel was the stone. She continued to meditate, trying to find her center, but oddly, it kept getting farther away. She had trouble focusing.

At lunchtime she abandoned meditation and cross the hall to check on her friend. The brass name plate glimmered in the dull light of the hallway: Changeling. She pressed the buzzer. No answer. She waited.

"Maybe he's asleep." She knocked, then pounded.

No answer.

Perplexed, she headed up to the common room. Cyborg was there, talking quietly with Robin on the couch. Starfire looked out of the window toward the bay. The red dawn of the morning had rung true. The sky was getting lower and darker. There was a storm coming. The alien girl crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. Cyborg looked up from where he was in hushed conversation and caught her eye. He looked back at Robin, who also looked her way. Starfire put a hand up against the cold glass wall.

Raven blinked, and pulled up the hood of her cloak.

"What's going on?" she said, flatly.

Nobody responded.

"Where's Changeling?"

"The Changeling," said Starfire "has left."

Raven froze, and then spoke without thinking. "He'll come back. He always comes back."

Robin turned to face her. He walked slowly toward her, crossing the large room in an almost predatory fashion. "He came to me a couple of hours ago," Robin said, "and told me that he had a family emergency, and would be away on Doom Patrol business for the foreseeable future."

"He'll come back," she repeated. Her affect flat. Unfeeling. "He always comes back."

Robin reached behind his back and took something from his utility belt. He lifted his hand to waist height and opened in. In it was a Titans Communicator. A lot of people just thought of them as video cell phones, but they were more than that. Designed by Robin the day that he realized that a team and a family would be a far better life than that of a lone vigilante, and made by Cyborg out of his own circuits, they were the nervous system that held the Titans together. They weren't just a comm system, they were a lifeline. When you opened them and called, family _always_ answered. They answered without hesitation and without fail. And no Titan was ever without one. Even Changeling, who could mislay his pants, had never lost his, or left it behind.

But this one was dinged and battered, as though it had been kept by a careless owner. The case was cracked, and there were stains on it. Tofu stains.

"I found this," Robin said, "in the exact center of his desk."

"That can't be right," said Raven. "He'd never leave it. You've made a mistake."

She turned on her heel and walked briskly toward the door that led to the habitat level. The room was silent. Once she hit the corridor, she began to lean forward and walk faster. She walked faster and faster until she was at a dead run. She returned to the hallway where they shared a bathroom and came to the door that read Changeling. This time she didn't bother to knock, but drew in her focus and phased through the door.

The top three drawers were open haphazardly. The sheets and blanked had been removed, folded loosely, and placed on the foot of the bed. One of the closet doors was open. Half the hangers were empty, the others in disarray. She didn't have to be the apprentice to the world's greatest detective to see it. This room had been gone through by someone who Didn't Give A Shit.

"He'll come back. He always comes back."

Then she saw it. Or, rather, didn't see _them_. The necklace he'd been given by Chief Patawba. The picture of his parents. The picture of Terra. And the picture of her. All were gone.

"I did the _right thing_," she thought. "I'm _dangerous_. I can't be . . ." she stopped. She'd been about to say 'vulnerable.' "Weak," she finished. "I'll go to my room. I'll find my center, meditate, and it will all be okay. And he _always _comes back. Always.

She stepped across and down the hall to her own room. She fumbled with the door panel. Her hands were shaking, and she had to put in her code twice before the door whooshed open.

"I just need to settle down and meditate and it'll be okay. He always . . ."

"MUMBO-JUMBO!"

The mixture of black and white lighting that flashed from the corner of her room out of the way of her door wrapped around her tiny body and lifted her from the floor. It flashed and crackled like a parti-colored wreath of damnation. It flowed over and into her skin and ground upon her bones, squeezing blood from her soul. Her back arched, her muscled knotted. A long, loud, and high scream tore from her throat. The lightning vanished and she collapsed to the floor.


	39. Clarity In the Barrel of a Gun

"MUMBO-JUMBO!"

The mixture of black and white lighting that flashed from the corner of her room out of the way of her door wrapped around her tiny body and lifted her from the floor. It flashed and crackled like a parti-colored wreath of damnation. It flowed over and into her skin and ground upon her bones, squeezing blood from her soul. Her back arched, her muscled knotted. A long, loud, and high scream tore from her throat. The lightning vanished and she collapsed to the floor.

The man was a foot taller than her. He wore an out-of-fashion tuxedo, opera cloak the like of which hadn't been fashionable since Jack the Ripper was wandering London, and a black top hat.

"Mumbo Jumbo," she gasped. "You're in my room. Nobody comes in Raven's room."

Like Robin, Mumbo wore a harlequin mask, concealing his eyes. But there the resemblance ended. Mumbo's nose was huge and bulbous. His ears stuck out like jug handles and his skin was aqua blue. But this time, he was different. Darker. He stood a foot taller than her, and broader of shoulders, though they were still stooped and slender. His eyes squinted dangerously, and his teeth seemed almost . . . pointed?

"Nobody," she repeated, "comes in Raven's room. Azarath, Metrion, Zynthos!"

She spread her hands and . . . nothing. She looked down at her hands, normally wreathed in a nimbus of power, and there was nothing there. Mumbo laughed.

"Hah," he said, "who's the real wizard now?"

Raven rose to her knees, "I don't care what joke shop you bought that little toy from," she said, "you're still a fake."

She stood slowly.

"Fake, am I?" he said, holding his want low, like an experienced knife fighter. "Who's the only one wielding magic in your precious room now? Maybe I'll zap you. Maybe I'll kick you to death. Or maybe I'll just drop a house on you!"

He grinned nastily.

There had been little point in Raven training very hard with martial arts. Skill and enthusiasm only goes so far. When you're barely five feet tall and weigh less than a hundred pounds, there's only so much that can be done. Most of her training had been in how to use her powers to best effect. But she was very observant, very, very smart, and had trained alongside Robin, who was possibly the most dangerous martial artist in North America for seven years. It would take a very stupid woman to have not learned something.

Raven shifted her right foot back and raised her hands to a classic boxing stance: left hand in front for the jab, right hand back for the haymaker. She planted her back foot, locked her right wrist, and threw from her shoulder, rolling her right hip to put all her hundred pounds behind the punch. She'd caught Mumbo by surprise and hit him square in his bulbous, protruding nose. The wet, crunchy sound of tearing cartilage filled the room as his nose broke.

"Little bitch," he snarled, and kicked her in the stomach.

Her hands flashed out in a classic low block, genden barai, but even though her technique was perfect, Mumbo's vastly larger mass simply over-rode her arms and he buried his boot deep in the soft tissues of her abdomen. Raven retched and collapsed, folding over her injured torso.

"I think I'm going to go with the kicking. I want to savor the moment," said Mumbo.

Raven retched again, vomiting up the tea she'd had earlier.

"As long as I don't have to listen to any more of your phony incantations." She wiped her mouth.

He snarled and kicked her in the ribs. She felt one crack as the force of the blow rolled her up against her bed.

He kicked her again.

"No matter how many times you kick me, no matter how much you hit me, you're still a fake. You don't know magic from music, and you couldn't read a spell if it was tattooed on the inside of your eyelids."

"You know what?" he said, "I've changed my mind. It's time to shut your mouth once and for all."

There was a small puff of smoke and a gun appeared in his hand. Raven looked at it and blinked. The barrel was enormous. It looked like a small cottontail rabbit could hide in it.

"The Ruger Super Redhawk," Mumbo said smugly. "It shoots a .454 round and is enough to send you back to the loving arms of your father you smug little punk."

Raven sneered. "You had it up your sleeve."

Mumbo snarled and pulled back the hammer. Raven had no time to move. No time to consider.

Nevermore: Raven's mindscape.

A single aspect of Raven commanded the center of Nevermore. She stood roughly seven feet tall and probably weighed in at almost four hundred pounds. Clad all in gray, she looked down and addressed two other avatars.

"Are we still in accord?"

Knowledge spoke. "Your command of the facts is unassailable. He makes us feel things. All kinds of things. He makes us lose all control. A pregnancy could destroy all things. All these facts are not in dispute."

Wisdom chimed in. "We are already responsible for seven billion deaths. With the return of our father, they would all die again. Including him. And besides, we still don't understand why we didn't level the Tower last night. We have chosen the wisest course."

"Where are the others?" said the hulking Timid.

"Uncertain," said Knowledge. Valor (Brave) is on the move and I cannot isolate her. Things have been in complete chaos down here since we permitted him to touch us so. Love, as we knew her, is _gone_. Sloth is in her hammock when last assessed. Rage is subdued.

Timid sighed.

"Then things are going as well as they are going to go."

"You do realize that we're about to die," said Knowledge.

"I know," said the woman, casting a shadow over the other avatar. "It's better this way. We won't hurt anybody else, and we won't hurt him anymore.

"And," she said, in a tiny voice, almost ludicrous for someone her size, "if we keep him away to start with, he can't throw us away later. Like Garth. Like Malcior. Like Azarath. Like Mother."

"What about them?" said Wisdom. "It's not healthy to keep them locked up like that. We learned our lesson last time."

Timid looked over at the edge of the center of Nevermore, to three cages.

"This is different. There are only three of them, and they are barely here to start with. If we don't care for them, they will wither away before they can become a problem."

"You are clearly the boss. But I don't think this is the wisest course."

The three cages were occupied by three girls. Each wore a rose-colored cloak of similar, but clearly different hue. Each held the bars of her cage in a tight grip.

"Who are you guys?" spoke a new voice. All in brown, Sloth squatted in front of the small cages. Each girl was young, somewhere between nine and eleven. Flat-chested, narrow hipped; they were healthy but as yet undeveloped.

"That color belongs to –"

"We're her daughters," said the first girl.

"Knowledge would tell you," said the second, "That English is a poor language for talking about love."

The third spoke. "French works way better. Or Greek. Little girls love their dolls. And ponies. And their mommies. And their first crush. Women are more complex. I am Agape. Unconditional love. What women feel for family and friends."

The second girl spoke. "I'm Philia. 'Virtuous love.' I'm how Raven loves the practice of magic, her home in Jump City, or her membership in the Titans."

And the first girl said, "I'm Eros. I'm well, you know . . ."

"Yeah," said Sloth. "I think I know."

Sloth kneeled in front of Ero's cage and grabbed hold of the door and began to pull.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to open this door."

"That looks like an awful lot of work for you."

Sloth sat down and braced her feet.

"It's all relative," she panted, beginning to sweat. "Do you have any _idea_ how much work it's going to be to find _another_ boy willing to put up with our bullshit? I want to _keep_ this one."

She strained. "This is no good. Hang on."

She whistled. Valor (Brave) walked up.

"So," said Sloth, "We're about to die, and you're just standing around?"

Valor gestured with her thumb to the center of Nevermore. "Her nibs the Gutless is in charge. There's nothing I can do."

"So that's the path of Valor," said Eros. "Just roll over and die."

"It's not my choice."

"Open this door and my sisters and I will show you and Timid 'choice.'"

The right side of Valor's mouth twitched into a tiny, half smile.

"You really think you can take her?"

"Try us."

Valor bent over and added her efforts to that of Sloth. They heaved and strained, but the cage would not budge. There was a scarlet flash. A slender arm, all in red gripped the cage next to that of Valor. Valor turned her head to face rage, who was normally inarticulate. Four red eyes glittered beneath our hood.

"What?" said the woman in red. "He has kicked us, struck us, is threatening to kill us, and he's _broken into our room_. Those things must be answered for. And besides, Changeling made certain promises he has not kept. For that, _he_ must pay."

Rage bent her considerable strength to freeing the rose-colored avatar. The cage began to give way.

"Pull!" shouted Valor.

"I am," said Sloth. "It's not enough."

An orange-clad hand yanked on the cage door, and it popped open.

Everyone turned to stare at Rude.

"I want to get laid again."

Eros stepped out of her bondage and turned to Agape's cage. "Pop this lock," she commanded. Raven's rebel aspects all turned to opening Agape's cage, and then Philia's.'

"All right ladies. You have to sit this one out. I understand that. But we appreciate what you've done so far."

She cracked her neck. "Let's go, girls."

The three faces of love strode out into the center of Raven's mindscape.

"Hey!" shouted Eros, "Ginormica!"

Timid's head whipped around. She blinked. "Who let _you_ out?"

"Everybody. Now stand down. You're making a couple of hideous mistakes."

"It's better this way."

"Oh like hell."

Wisdom spoke. Smoothly, soothingly and calmly. "Surely, if we love them, we can see that . . ."

Agape dropped her right foot back, brought her hands up, locked her wrist, and threw from the shoulder.

She hit Wisdom square in the stomach with all her weight. Utterly surprised, Wisdom gasped and folded in half, falling to the ground on her side.

At the same time, before Knowledge could open her mouth Philia shifted her feet back and forth, dropped back, and kicked Knowledge in the crotch as hard as she could. The be-spectacled aspect of Raven grabbed herself, and folded with a squeak.

Eros spread her arms and levitated up until she was at the massive Timid's eye level. The grey-cloaked avatar was gaping.

"You're surprised? Honey, Wisdom or Knowledge could have told you: love never fights fair. It hits you where you are weakest, most tender, and usually when you're not looking." She grinned, wickedly.

"Are you sure you want a piece of this?" She raised her hands and gestured in a classic "come get some" gesture.

Timid's mouth flattened into a straight line, and she raised a massive hand to grab at Eros, who flickered to one side.

Eros shook her head. "I'm too smart to let fear get a grip on me. She's too strong to allow that."

The other hand flickered up, and Eros flashed to one side. "Whups, and fast, too. But I'm faster. I come on sudden, with no warning," and she punched Timid square in the nose.

"Stand down."

She flickered to the side and punched Timid in the ear.

"We've got work to do. We're wasting energy."

The gray avatar swung at her again, faster this time. But when she tried to step forward, she found that Philia and Agape had grabbed her around the knees and were pulling in opposite directions.

Eros continued as though nothing had happened. "We need to defeat Mumbo's curse, and we need to find Garfield and fix this."

Timid began to whimper as she knelt down.

"Failing that, by Azar, the last thing we see is not going to be through the eyes of Fear. If we do that, Father wins."

Timid lowered her head in defeat.

"Okay. But I still think this is a mistake."

"Valor," shouted Eros, "You're on!"

The green-cloaked avatar leaped forward, and stopped.

"It's too late."

Titan Tower, in Raven's Room:

They say that when you know you are about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Raven had only one thought.

"Garfield."

He'd been there at the very beginning, her first day in Jump City. He'd obviously been afraid of her. Of the dark energy she wielded. But he'd still been brave enough to ride through her gate. And to fight at her side. The memories flashed before her mind's eye faster than she could think. Garfield taking two bullets for her. Garfield _dying_ because he had done so. He kept her secrets. He thought she was beautiful when she couldn't see it herself. He banished her nightmares, never asking for anything in return. More secrets. He'd never told the rest of the team she slept in his bed. Garfield telling off fangirls for calling her 'witch.' Nobody called her 'witch' where he could hear it. He was kind. Garfield spending his free time turning into puppies for sick kids. He was strong. Garfield carrying her over his shoulder. He was gentle with children and animals. He'd put his body between her and more than just bullets, but also an army of demons and a giant, rotting hoard of undead.

She looked up from the gun barrel into Mumbo's eye.

"Fuck me," she said. "I've made a horrible mistake."

"Yes you have," said Mumbo, "You made a fool out of me one time too often."

The hammer on the hand cannon began to move.

The room was suddenly filled with the poly-phasic roar of Cyborg's sonic cannon. The blue-white light it generated flashed right in front of Raven's nose. It picked up Mumbo and threw him past Raven's bed and into the opposite wall with a meaty thump. He slid to the floor, eyes crossed.

"Boo-ya. Looks like I got here just short of too late!"

Raven turned to face him. "Where's Changeling? I have to find him. Now."

"I dunno Raven. He took off a while ago."

"I have to find him."

She ran past him and out the door, ignoring Mumbo, who was making wibble noises.

She ran to the elevator and headed out the front door to the sheltered spot on the rocks where Garfield used to go to think. She looked up. The dark skies were even closer. Lighting flashed in the belly of the clouds. But there was nothing here for Raven. She turned on her heel and headed back inside.

She took the elevator to the common room, then raced past Starfire heading for the roof access.

"Friend Raven," she said, "Where are you . . ."

But Starfire's voice was lost in the slamming of the door to the roof access stairs. Raven ran out onto the gravel-covered roof. Changeling sometimes came up here to look out over the bay. The black skies rumbled and Raven squinted into the rising wind. She jogged quickly around the HVAC units, in case he was sitting down. She called his name, but it was lost in the wind. She ran back downstairs.

From the elevator, she hit the intercom.

"Cyborg, please meet me in the garage. I need the T-Car."

When the elevator door opened, Cyborg was waiting for her, Mumbo dangling from one hand, as well as Robin.

"Sorry Raven," Cyborg said. "We almost never get trouble alerts during heavy storms. I was taking advantage of that to change out the alternator and a few other things. My baby's in pieces and won't be on line for at least an hour.

She turned to the spot where Changeling parked his Mustang. Nothing. Of course. He'd taken it wherever he'd gone.

Robin said, "I'm not sure what else we can do."

The garage door began to rumble, lifting up to reveal the dark clouds and flashing lightning. The two men looked out into the gathering storm.

Thunder split the interior of the garage and a red and blue streak flashed between Robin and Cyborg. The R-Cycle fishtailed up the ramp as Raven strained to get the bike back underneath her. Then the gyros kicked in and the bike straightened up and shot across Titan Island.

"Can she ride that thing?" asked Cyborg.

"I hope so," Robin replied. "She was in such a hurry she didn't even take my helmet." He held up the armored helmet.


	40. Cold Rain

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs :

Thowell3 – Oh, I so get that. I'm way over it myself. I just needed and excuse to write some of these scenes.

TitanLover3352 – The update came out so fast because that was supposed to be one chapter, and I realized that I was over five thousand words. Glad you liked the lemon.

Dragonkyng – First she has to find him. Then she has to catch him? Will she succeed? Read on.

Shugokage – Thanks. 'bout the only thing worse than "We need to talk" is "It's not you, it's me."

-fo-fum – Sorry about jerking you around again. The grim truth is just that I wanted to write the chapter of Raven tearing around Jump City in the rain on a stolen motorcycle. The imagery wouldn't get out of my mind. I hope you think it's worth it.

LadyFelton1994 – Glad you found the lemon, and glad you liked it. Many women were disappointed. But he's not coming back. She's going to have to go and _get_ him.

JohnXGambit – You know, that's a good idea, but I did something a little different.

Irishfan62 – I think you got what you needed, but if you still need to contact me, it's lamont dot Cranston –at- gmail dot com.

Kellygirl6754 – I get it a little bit.

Shadico – It wasn't forced, but it was a slap in the face with a live carp. I've known it was coming for about seven thousand words, but I failed to tell you guys. I also depended too much on everybody having seen the cartoon, and thinking about him the way I do. I will probably go back to chapter 38 and fix that. It wasn't just the death threat, though. I had to take her powers away in order to get her on a motorcycle in the rain, desperate and in a hurry. It's really, really hard to put Raven in that position. And yeah, I was sorely tempted to have him bounce her after what she's put him through. But he's a much nicer guy that I am.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Good idea, but not necessary. For open desert, the wide tires Robin uses as stock will do.

Nuka – A number of people who've suggested bringing Rita in is interesting, but I like the idea of using Mumbo-Jumbo for Raven's Road to Damascus moment. And yeah, I love that "We need to talk crap." No man has ever gotten anything good out of a conversation that started with those five words.

Kringeline – Zatanna? Please. The woman's Bruce Wayne's age. Old enough to be Garfield's mother. Besides, if he can't make this one work, Garfield is swearing off Dark Sorceresses. Too much baggage. Maybe there's a cheerleader somewhere?

* * *

From the Author:

Whew. Long weekend of writing for me. This was supposed to be one quick chapter. I wanted to write about Raven having her Road to Damascus moment, write about her tearing around the city on a stolen motorcycle, and I wanted to steal the climax dialogue from the closing scenes of last year's season finale of _Castle_. I thought I could do it in 3000 words. Took me ten.

I hope you guys like this chapter. I've left adventure/drama and even romance about three or four thousand words back. We're _way _into melodrama territory here. I apologize to anyone who gets cheese-stains on their sweater from reading this. But i had a lot of fun writing it.

* * *

Raven raced down the small winding road that led to the submersible bridge that connected Titan Island to the Jump City mainland.

"Terra," she thought. "He always goes to her when he's hurt and needs to think."

_I still hear your voice,  
When you sleep next to me._

Raven leaned into the sharp left-hand turn and twisted the accelerator as cold, fat raindrops began to strike her face and torso. She leaned low over the bike's fuel tank, her cloak streaming out behind her. A few minutes later, she stopped the bike outside the tumble-down cathedral Slade had used for his lair that fateful day. She ran through the shattered structure as fast as she could, and came to the plinth where Terra's body had once stood, a self-identifying tombstone. The plinth was empty now, although the plaque was still there.

"Terra – A Teen Titan - A True Friend"

But no Garfield. Just some withered flowers. He hadn't been here. He would have cleaned them up. She turned on her heel again and ran back for the bike. Her communicator beeped. It couldn't Garfield and she didn't have time for anyone else. She ignored it and started the powerful bike again.

"The Badlands," she thought. "Terra's old apartment."

The rain was falling in earnest as she hit the normally arid desert. The R-cycle's wide tires did well off-road, but the arroyo where Terra had lived before coming to Titan Tower already had a small but growing stream down the center of it.

"I'm going to have to work fast," Raven thought. This valley's gonna be a river, soon."

_I still feel your touch,  
in my dreams._

She hopped off the bike and swiftly clambered up the arroyo wall. The door to Terra's little suite of caves was blocked with a huge boulder. Terra could have shifted it with no effort. And normally, so could Raven. But whatever cheap shot Mumbo had taken was still in effect. She lay on her stomach and shouted into a small gap where the boulder filled the entrance.

"Garfield! Are you in there?"

Only silence and the eerie whistling of the wind down the canyon answered her.

"Where else could he be?" she wondered.

_Forgive me my weakness – but I don't know why  
Without you it's hard to survive._

Raven scrambled back down the canyon wall and assessed the rising water in the center of the normally dry creek bed. It was visibly swelling, but she was pretty sure the R-cycle would carry her clear before it got dangerous. Her comm beeped again. She ignored it. With no powers, she couldn't help corral Cinderblock or Plasmus, and she didn't have time right now anyway.

Raven was almost wrong, and had cut it very close, the R-cycle throwing up a thick wake of sandy mud as she shot clear of the arroyo and back out into open desert. Then she opened up the throttle and roared back toward this city at increasingly dangerous speeds.

At the city limits Raven stopped and propped the bike up with one leg. The rain was pouring down now, and the dark sorceress was drenched with cold water.

"No point in going back to the Tower," she thought. "He's not there, and he's not coming back. Not at any of Terra's old haunts. He didn't go out for Pizza." She closed her eyes and centered herself. Nothing.

"Damn you, Mumbo," Raven thought, and went to start the cycle again.

_'Cause every time we touch I get this feeling -  
And everytime we kiss I know I can fly._

Her comm vibrated this time, and then spoke with Cyborg's voice.

"Answer. The. God. Damn. Phone. Raven. I've got information you need."

She pulled the device from her belt and opened it.

"What?" she said, flatly.

Cyborg looked at her image. Her hood was plastered to her head. Rain poured down in the background and soaked wisps of hair the color of fine wine stuck to her cheeks. Her eyes were hollow.

"You're trying to run the Changeling to ground, aren't you?"

"Seven years of hanging around with the world's greatest detective have rubbed off on you," she replied.

"Enough with the tough girl attitude, I'm trying to help, and I've committed about five felonies to do it."

"Sorry," she said.

"He's at the airport. I hacked his personal cash card. He just used it to buy a ticket to Upper Lamumba. Raven, I'm pretty sure he's going back to Africa. His ticket is one way. He boards in forty minutes, and his flight number is 65011."

"Thanks, Cyborg. She paused. I owe you . . . more than I can say."

"Mush later. Move now. He boards in 39 minutes."

_Can't you feel my heart beat fast,  
I want this to last –  
I need you by my side._

Raven closed the communicator without further speech and twisted the accelerator on the R-cycle again. The scarlet vehicle leapt forward with a roar. Raven flashed through the increasingly heavy traffic on the wet streets as speeds that would have given Robin pause. The internal gyros on the R-cycle whined with the strain of keeping the bike upright as she whipped around corners and threaded between large vehicles. Helmetless, she worked the wet control surfaces of the motorcycle as soggy woolen cloak threatened to pull her from the bike as she cornered. But there was no time to stop and throw it off. She shivered, soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, and facing seventy-mile-an-hour winds on the back of the bike.

She rounded a curve on the raised highway as she raced through the city. The large halogen headlight illuminated a sign. She squinted through the pouring rain to read it.

"Jump City International Airport Next Exit."

Raven leaned into the exit lane, hitting the ramp at highway speed. She could see the planes moving on the runway. The rain was heavy, but the winds were mostly light.

"There won't be any delayed flights tonight. Dammit."

_Your arms are my castle, you heart is my sky,  
They wipe away the tears that I cry._

The bike thundered down to the bottom of the ramp and onto the driveway to the airport. Raven flickered in and out of traffic like a hummingbird, but eventually traffic ground to a halt. There was a minor traffic jam in front of the airport doors. Traffic was packed from the loading zone to perhaps a quarter mile to where Raven stood on her toes, straining to see over the cars ahead of her. She growled in frustration.

"A break. Just one teensy break. Is that too much to ask?"

Raven looked to her left. The driveway ran in a large semi-circle around a park like area with a fountain in the center. The terminal building lay in a crescent across the street from the park. She pressed her lips together. Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't need breaks. I _make_ breaks."

_The good times, the bad times, we've been through them all.  
You make me rise when I fall._

Raven gunned the throttle on the R-cycle, whose rear wheel spun unsupported for a good three seconds before it dried out the pavement beneath it and caught, laying a small patch of Robin's custom-made rubber. The bike leapt forward like a startled colt and bumped over the curb onto the manicured lawn. Raven leaned low over the fuel tank as she flashed between the short palmetto trees and approached the fountain. She ground her teeth and accelerated again.

"Robin always seems to get away with this."

She pointed the front wheel of the cycle at the incline that surrounded the large concrete fountain and opened the throttle all the way out. The bike jumped forward once more, as though goosed from behind, and hit the incline fast. Both wheels left the ground and the bike started a jump that Robin would have been proud of. At least at first. When the back wheel left the pavement, the R-cycle's on-board computer checked speed, proximity, and direction and understood that the operator wanted to catch some serious air. So the automated booster on each axle fired, and the R-cycle rose higher, clearing the top of the fountain and the stalled traffic on the road next to the terminal building. The problem came as Raven started to come down. The bike began to roll to one side and she had no idea how to compensate.

"Azar," she thought. "This is the second time in one day, and all I can think about his him."

_'Cause everytime we touch I feel the static  
And every time we kiss I reach for the sky._

Here's a dirty little secret about Robin and his bike: he's not as good a rider as he looks like. Oh, he's good all right. But the bike does about 2/3 of the work. Robin's job one is fighting bad guys, and he can't duke it out with Johnny Rotten if he's got to spend all his time and energy controlling his bike. So he built a bike that would mostly drive itself.

As the R-cycle began to roll, the onboard system detected the change in vector. This, combined with Raven's negligible weight convinced the system that the operator had left, and the automatic, "Robin has bailed on me again. I'd better land and wait for pickup" subroutine started.

"Oh," said Raven, as the bike righted itself, heavy jets firing from its underside. The bike side-slipped and lowered itself to the ground next to the curb in the red zone.

_Can't you hear my heart be so?  
I can't let you go  
I want you in my life._

Raven allowed herself to sit there for just a few seconds to let her heart stop trying to leap out of her chest. Then she threw her wobbly legs off of the machine and started to make her way through the pouring rain across the sidewalk.

A security guard barred the way. "I'm sorry miss, you can't leave that there."

Raven had had a: Bad. Day. Then it had gotten worse. She was wet, cold, hungry, and utterly, utterly terrified. And to top it off, under her cloak the R-cycle in concert with her wet leotard had given her a world-class wedgie that she wasn't about to fix with this asshole staring at her. Her head whipped up and she made eye contact. The poor, underpaid security guard was caught unawares with a full-bore, un-filtered patented Raven Death Glare.

Her face spoke of death, pain, and unrelenting torment. Of lakes of fire and boiling blood, of vast arid plains where the winds never blew and icy arctic nights and frozen tundra.

He stepped out of her way.

Raven raced through the doors and consulted the Arrival/Departure boards.

"Flight number 65011 is boarding in ten minutes. Her face fell. At gate R-42. Oh Azar. That's a mile away."

A normal girl would have burst into tears. A normal guy would have given up. There was very little normal about Raven. And she was a Titan. A soaking wet Titan in soggy, slippery wet boots and carrying a heavy cloak. She pulled her lips back in a snarl.

"Make a hole!" she barked at the crowd, and started forward at a dead run.

She did well in the terminal proper. The seasoned travelers coming in and out of Jump City knew well: a Titan in Motion outranks a civilian looking for the nearest bathroom. The crowds melted away in front of her. The occasional clueless newbie she darted around like a running back. Water slung in arcs from her cloak and hair as she cornered, her wet shoes sliding on the slick floor. Coming around one corner she missed her footing and face-planted on a cement column. Raven briefly saw stars, then sprinted on.

Then she came to the security screening section. The way was barred with a series of Plexiglas screens, scanners, and a huge mass of people. They stood there in a long line, waiting their turn as their fellow travelers took off coats, hats, and belts waiting their turn to pass in front of the strip-search cameras. A Transportation Security Administration (TSA) goon stepped in front of her.

_'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling  
And every time we kiss, I take to the skies._

"Ticket, please."

Raven was unable to process what he said.

"What?"

"No one passes this point without a ticket, miss. Ticket, please?"

"I – I don't have one," she stammered, trying both catch her breath and clear her head.

"Then you can't go past this point. I'm sorry."

Raven opened her mouth to argue, and then looked up at the clock on the wall. It knew no mercy. She did _not _have time for this. Flight number 65011 would be boarding in five minutes, and she still had a goodly ways to go. She dropped her chin to her chest and turned away as though dejected. She walked five steps and then turned suddenly. She met the eyes of the TSA goon and pulled her lips back in an animalistic snarl she's learned from Changeling, and ran forward.

The fat man stuck his hands out to grab at her shoulders and Raven seized one in each hand. She jerked down hard and used them for leverage to jump up and forward. She wasn't anywhere near Robin's class as an acrobat. But she'd been a Titan for years. Raven rose up, holding her legs straight and spreading her ankles as fast as she could. Her groin cleared the top of the goon's head by a good six inches as her legs flashed outside of his arms. She landed, catlike, on one of the carry-on scanners behind him. Without hesitation, she stepped on top of the monitor, leaned forward and jumped. Her hands gripped the top of the bullet proof glass divider and she cart-wheeled over the whole apparatus and hit the ground running on the other side.

The fat TSA goon gaped at her for a full minute and the screamed, "Lock it down! Lock it _all_ down. And _stop her_!"

Sirens blared and lights flashed. The TSA was not an impediment to Raven. By the time they got anywhere, she was already gone.

As she skidded around the final corner before Changeling's gate, she saw him. It was exactly what she expected once the sirens had begun to blare. He'd herded the other passengers into cover behind furniture, into bathrooms, and behind support columns. He, himself, stood in the center of the doorway by the gate, in Teen Titans Solo Battle Ass-Kicking Pose Number Three. She almost laughed. He looked so . . . normal. Her full-on charge dropped to a trot, and then a walk.

_Can't you feel my heart beat fast?  
I want this to last.  
I need you by my side._

"Oh shit," she thought. "I've – I've been completely focused on finding him. What do I say? What do I want to say? What do I want him to do?"

Garfield relaxed from his ready stance. "Raven? Raven – what are you doing here?" he asked.

Raven winced. His affect was completely flat. His voice was hard, disinterested. She stretched out with her feelings, but could feel nothing. Whatever Mumbo had done to her was still in full effect. But she didn't really need her powers. She could see the stone she'd created written all over his face.

She licked her lips. "Are you," she asked, "the man who swore he would always have my back?"

He frowned slightly. "What?"

"It's a simple question, Garfield. 'Are you the man who promised me that, no matter what, he would always have my back?'

He sighed, and relaxed slightly.

"Thank Azar," thought Raven. "The stone face cracked a little. Maybe . . ."

He spoke. "Yes, I am."

She relaxed a little more.

"So, um, where are you going?"

The green man glanced over his shoulder at the jet way. "I'm going to Upper Lamumba to visit my birth parent's graves. Then I'm going to hook up with Rita and Steve and run with my old pack for a while. I decided a needed a change of scenery."

"I can see that," she said, and her voice trailed off.

They just looked at each other for a moment. Then the Changeling lost patience.

"Raven," he said, somewhat harshly. "I've got a plane to catch. What do you want?"

Raven's mind whirled. "What _do_ I want?"

She was only sure of a couple of things. She _didn't _want to see him go through that jet way gate. And she _didn't _want that knot of stone she'd felt in his spirit to be there. She _didn't _want to climb into an empty bed in a dark room. She stepped cautiously closer, like she was approaching an abused animal.

"I want," she thought, "I want nothing more right now than to be sitting on the couch, reading beside you. I want a mug of jasmine tea on the coffee table, a book in my hand, and earplugs jammed in my ears as I sit beside you while you play Mutant Teenage Ninja Cyber Monkeys IX, or whatever it is that you are playing these days. I don't need to be in your lap. Just . . . close enough to reach out my hand and touch you if I need to."

"You, she blurted. "I want you. Mumbo took away my powers. And I don't care. I just worried about you."

His eyebrows went up.

"He tried to kill me, almost successfully, and all I could think of was you."

She stepped closer.

"He was in-my-room, _and I didn't care._ All that mattered, all that I could think of was that you weren't there."

Before she could step any closer, Changeling's hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, hard, and he thrust her out to arm's length.

"Raven, I can't live like this. The will-she-won't-she is tearing me apart. I'm _not a toy!"_

She flinched as though he had hit her.

"I – I never thought of you as a toy. I'm not playing games. I guess it could seem like it, but I'm just – scared."

Anger flared. She balled up a tiny fist and smacked him softly on the chest.

"I _told _you I had a brain full of spiders."

She hit him again.

"I _told _you I didn't know what I was doing!"

She hit him again.

"And _you_ said that we should see where it goes. Where this is where it goes!"

She began to hammer against his chest over and over again. "I had a plan. It was working. I was isolated. I was centered. I was mostly safe! And you. _You_ knocked on my door. _You_ poked. _You_ prodded. _You_ dragged me out into the light. Now I don't even want to face breakfast without you."

Raven's eye burned and watered. She hated showing weakness. But more she hated the idea of him walking down that jet way, his back to her. She panted. Against her will, tears started to leave damp tracks down her face.

"You said you'd always be my friend; that nothing could change that. _You swore you'd always have my back!"_

He pulled her close and folded his arms around her. Her shoulders wracked with suppressed sobs. He put his chin on the top of her head and spoke softly.

"You say you're not very good at this. So let's be clear: you dumped me without warning. You broke my heart. You shattered my dreams. And in less than thirty seconds I'm the bad guy. Seems to me you're pretty good at this."

He squeezed her tightly.

"I'm a girl," she muttered into his chest. "That's the way it works. Or so I'm told."

She sniffed.

He pushed her gently away and lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

"I wasn't kidding," he said, softly. "I can't live like this, constantly jerked back and forth. I know I said I'd always be your friend, but I can't be. Not right now. Whatever we're going to be after we leave here, it won't be friends. In or out, Raven. What's it going to be?"

"I'm in," she said, without hesitation. "I just don't know how to figure out what that means."

Then she swallowed, fearfully. "So," she said, "can I come with you?"

"What?" he blinked.

"I – I want to meet your parents."

He paused. "No."

Her stomach fell into her soggy boots.

"Raven, your cheek is swelling up. You're developing a black eye. Your cloak is sopping and stretched out of shape. You're shivering. Your left boot is full of water, and there's a little trail of snot under your right nostril. And if my hand on your ass is any indication, you've got a world-class wedgie going."

"You make a girl feel so attractive."

"Suck it up. When I introduce you to my Mom, you're not going to want to look like a drowned rat. I'm going to take you home instead. This trip can wait."

He kissed her. Cold as she was, soft warmth spread through her body. She tasted his lips on hers again, and some of her fears subsided. They stood there, locked together, hearts racing and bodies entwined for a short eternity. It was only a brief lifetime later that the applause began to penetrate Raven's consciousness. She broke free of the kiss and stood up on her toes to peer over Garfield's shoulder. The two lovers were surrounded by a grim ring of black-clad security personnel, all brandishing weapons. Beyond them was a larger, thicker ring of probably three or four hundred people, all dividing their attention between applauding, whistling, texting and . . .

"Oh Azar, cell-phone cameras."

"I think," she sighed, "we are a You Tube sensation."

"If we hurry," he smiled back, "we have an outside chance of making it to the Tower in time to 'come out' to our friends instead of them seeing it in the news."

Alas, "hurrying" was not on the menu that evening. Raven, a lone teenage girl with no super powers had made utter fools out of the TSA security team and their director was Not Happy About It. Without consulting, the two fell into two roles. Garfield became the calm, controlled alpha-male in charge, and Raven took on the role of the chastened miss-behaving teenage girl. A teenage girl making idiots out of a mess of macho gun-toting males was going to stick in more than a few throats, and the quickest way out of this was going to involve placating a few egos, even if it went against Raven's grain. Besides, she'd seen Starfire use a particular tool against the Jump City Chief of Police two weeks ago to devastating effect.

She sat, silently, chin down and Changeling and the Director of Security talked back and forth. In the privacy of the Director's office, Garfield tried to explain what had happened. In the meantime, Raven didn't take her eyes off of the directors. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and subtly poked out her lower lip.

The older man ranted up and down his office as he argued with Changeling, abruptly breaking of in mid-sentence.

". . . and she broke about four federal statutes. And furthermore . . ." he paused. "Young lady, I raised five daughters. You may rest assured that that puppy-dog pout is _not_ new to me."

The he stopped and looked over at Garfield. "Three years ago my son stepped onto a Coast Guard Cutter and went out into a typhoon to rescue a small freighter. The helmsman on the freighter mis-handled the encounter and both vessels ended up without power. A giant green whale came out of nowhere and shoved both ships into safe water. Take your crazy girlfriend and go home. But not because of that puppy-dog pout. Because I owe you."

Raven smiled and hopped up, not speaking, and was out the door before he could change his mind. The lovers fled.

They got as far as the front door of the airport just in time to see the R-cycle pulling away on the back of a tow-truck.

Raven bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger while Garfield boggled for a moment, and then began to chuckle.

"So, Raven, what else did you do? Kick someone's dog? Insult his mother?"

She glared at him, and then softened. "Give me a break."

He smiled. "It's okay. It's just a fine and I've got the Mustang in long-term parking. I was going to have Cyborg deal with it for me next week."

He extended his arm. She hesitated, then put her hand through his elbow and allowed him to lead her to the long-term parking garage where he threw is bag into the trunk of the classic car. She looked at the car, needing some small talk after all the soul-searching.

"I see you and Cyborg finished the detailing. It looks good."

The Shelby Mustang had a distinctive set of stripes running the length of the center of the car, and a flash detail strip on the bottom of the door. It had looked unfinished without them.

"The grey works really well with the midnight blue . . ." her voice trailed off. She walked to the hood and put her hand gently on one of the stripes. The gray detailing exactly matched the shade of her skin.

She turned and looked at him. He didn't speak, but his cheekbones flashed khaki as he blushed.

"Wow. I'm trying to decide if that's sweetly romantic or stalker creepy."

"Easy," he said. "If were dating, it's sweetly romantic. If we're not, it's stalker creepy. We're dating now, right?"

"I guess," she said. "No. I mean, I don't guess, I know – we're dating. We just have a couple of things to do to make it 'official.'"

"Like what?"

"Well, we need to tell our friends."

He started the powerful vehicle.

"No time like the present."


	41. Coming Out

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs:

Kellygirl6754 – Glad you liked it. It wasn't just that she looked like a drowned rat. It's that he wasn't going to present her to Rita looking like a drowned Rat.

Dragonkyng – It was my very best aged sharp cheddar.

. – Good to hear from you again. OTPS? Don't know that one. Thanks for the compliment.

Katwizzle – I'm glad you liked it.

Caprichoso – Welcome to the party. I'm glad you like my interpretations of the characters. It's really the hardest part, because the whole point was to move them past who they were and into the next step of their lives. Which means they're not the characters they used to be any more. The prolific-icity is about to go down in flames. I'm not "blocked," per se, but I'm not sure that I have much more to say about these characters. I've got one more scene I want to write, and I can plow a path there, but too much more might degenerate into repetitive fan service. And nobody wants that. And yeah. Your observations on the nature of the lemon are spot-on. Can you believe that I actually lost a number of female readers over the concept of the Friend Zone? Major denial.

Civtorthe3rd – Glad you liked it. The Chase and Airport scene was something I wanted to see if I could pull off. It was inspired by the Cascada piece and one of my favorite schmaltzy movies from Back In The Day, "Don't Tell Her It's Me." I used to buy my breakfast in the gas station where Steve Guttenburg pulled off his heroic rescue. I almost inverted the trope by having Robin sent Raven off chasing after Garfield when he wasn't really leaving, just going to visit Rita for the weekend in Miami while she was in the US for a conference. But I decided to play it straight in the end. I decided that Garfield didn't need to take any more of Raven's crap.

Lord Vukodlak – Read on. I think you'll find that you were pretty close.

TitanLover3353 – One of the problems with trying to introduce dramatic tension with Raven in the any story is that she's so powerful that she can solve many of her problems with brute force. The chase and airport scenes would have been no fun at all if Raven had been able to fly or gate herself around airport security. So Mumbo had two jobs: remove her powers and present a credible death threat. In the end, I over-played it. More on that later.

Nuka – I would have done it in the last chapter, but I really wanted to write Raven speeding around the city, helmetless, on a stolen motorcycle, in the rain.

Theluckyshot – I'll settle for "interesting." I've got a few more scenes I want to explore, but I can see the end of it from here.

Fangirling – Glad you liked it.

V for anonymous – Yeah, well . . . all guys have their creepy stalker moments. The smart ones just try and not let them get ahead of us.

Dizzy – Glad you liked it. I love to spread happiness. As to the lemon, my number one Wing Chick summed up the reaction for me: Men want to see what's going on with their bodies. Women want to see what's in their heads. Live and learn. Maybe next time.

Oh, the voice of the people has been heard. I will continue to clutter my chapter headings with author's notes.

As to how far I'm going to take the story: I'm not sure. I've written a proposal scene, and I'm going to plow my way to that. I also mention some scenes in Raven's Wedding that I think I'd like to show you guys. (The throw down between Batman and Chef Gareth comes to mind. Imagine it: The Utterly Intimidating encounters the Can't Be Intimidated!) It might be fun to talk about that hush-hush business in the Falkland Islands and why the Royal Navy was so grateful to Raven that the sent a ship to show the flag at her wedding. I'm also enjoying the picture of an angry riot by the girl's lacrosse team from JSPS-238.)

Bloody Rose 101 – Thanks!

Shadico: Glad you liked it. As I re-read, I worry that I might should have toasted the cheese before I served it, or something. As to Raven's injuries – I could cop out and say that it's a comic-book/ cartoon trope: injuries only handicap the character when it's useful to the story. But in fact, I must confess, I threw in the broken ribs on a whim and then forgot about them when I was writing the tumbling scenes a couple of days later. My bad. I may fix it. I'm considering a giant re-write when I finish this thing. Once it's done and I can edit it all from beginning to end, I think I can tighten it up and make it a better story.

* * *

From the Author:

Okay – time to bring it down a bit. All that roaring around in the rain, jumping over fountains and cartwheeling over TSA stations got pretty intense. It's time for some quiet conversation. Of course, Raven still doesn't know what she wants. She's just figured out what she's sure she _doesn't_ want. And, frankly, Garfield is a little young to be making final decisions of his own. (No, they're not going to break up again. Calm down.)

I've mentioned any number of times that this story isn't infinite, and that I can see an end. One of the things I didn't anticipate when I started this project, though, was how much I would enjoy seeing how I would take on the various tropes particular to Raven, Beast Boy, and the other Titans, as well as some out of Hollywood. But I've hit most of the ones I'm interested in. (First Kiss, First Sex (Together), First Sex (at all), Visiting Nevermore, and so on.) So for the first time I'm going ask for direct input: what tropes (clichés) that I haven't done would you like to see my take on? Try and inspire me. As we consider how to finish this journey off, keep in mind that the main thrust is Raven's journey to embrace her humanity. Part of that is love and sex, but there is also marriage and family, and that's where we're headed, if we can stick with it long enough to get there.

But that's down the road. Here we're going to see a scene a number of people have expressed an interested in: the great Coming Out of Raven and Changeling. It's a little anti-climactic, to tell the truth, but I had fun with it.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

They sat together in silence as Garfield maneuvered the car through the moderate traffic back toward the Bay and Titan Tower. The rain continued steadily. Raven looked through the windshield and shivered. Without looking over, Garfield turned on the heater/defogger. She wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself.

"Thanks. So, um, what now?"

He glanced over at her and smiled a little half-smile. "You're asking me? Half an hour ago, my life had a plan. It had a completely different one at lunchtime, and an _utterly_ different one at dawn this morning. I'm winging it, lady. _Somebody_ keeps knocking me completely off-balance."

She colored. "You're driving _somewhere._ You must have _some_ plan."

"Just what I said. We go home."

"I mean what about _us?"_

"Well, you could tell me what you want."

"I'm supposed to know? All I was sure of was that I didn't want you to leave. I did get a picture in my head, though, back during all of the melodrama."

The rain slackened and Garfield dialed the wipers down to "low."

"I just wanted to be sitting on the couch, reading beside you, while you played video games. Is there a way we can go back to that?"

"Can't go back Raven, those are the rules. You can only go forward."

"Oh."

"That's not to say that the way forward can't lead to the couch, though."

They sat silently for a little while.

The Bay hove into view.

Raven spoke again. "So, what do we have to tell the others?"

He paused a moment, then asked, "What do we want them to know?"

"Nothing," said Raven, immediately.

He looked over at her. "Really? Why? Ashamed of me?"

"NO! I . . . it, I just . . . How can you be so relaxed? Don't you care what people think or say?"

"Not really. I mean, I'm green. Everybody's always going to stare at me. I can either get bent about it, or find it entertaining. But I can't stop it."

She thought about that for a little while. They reached the submersible bridge. The transponder in the Mustang called it up from the depths. Black water sheeted off of it under the dark skies.

"I won't be a secret, though." he said.

"I don't want that. I just – I want to be left alone," she replied.

"Too late for that Raven. You're out of your room. There are people out here. And they care about you. That means talking about you sometimes, and it means knowing some things about you. Life isn't a salad bar where you get to pick and choose the parts you want. You have friends and a family. That means that sometimes they guard your back. And sometimes they talk about your love life."

The Mustang rolled over the bridge and hit the gravel road leading to Titan Tower. The bridge submerged once again with a hiss and a gurgle.

Raven thought some more.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to defer to your judgment. You do the talking."

He blinked. "All those words are in English, but when you string them in that order, they have no meaning."

She put her head back against the seat back rest and closed her eyes.

"Three point five billion men in the world, and I had to fall in love with a compulsive comedian. Me."

He pulled the car over to the side and stopped. The gravel crunched under the Mustang's wheels. The engine dropped to an idle and the sound of the rain on the roof became audible. Raven opened her eyes and looked over at him. He was staring, eyes bright.

"What?" she asked.

"What did you say?"

"Huh? I said of all the men in the world, I had to fall in love with a compulsive comedian. I was making a comment on the irony of fate."

He smiled softly. "I'm sorry?"

She looked him dead in the eye and spoke slowly and clearly. "I've fallen in love with a compulsive comedian who's apparently also deaf!"

"I thought that's what you said. I just wanted to hear you say it again."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said the 'L-word.' You've never said it before."

She blinked. "Surely," she thought, "I have. I mean, we've been sharing a bed for four months, there was the mind-shattering sex last night, and all of the talk tonight and . . ."

She hadn't.

"I'm usually very careful with my words. I try to say exactly what I mean. And I . . . I don't know what love feels like. But, if being in love means feeling an empty space inside me when we're apart, then I'm in love with you. Ye gods and little fishes, that sounds so sappy when I say it out loud."

"I won't make you say it too often."

"Thanks.

"No more than once an hour, I promise."

She closed her eyes.

"Right."

His lips gently closed over hers, and she didn't think anything at all for a couple of minutes.

Then she felt the cool night air on her lips.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Too much respect. Making out in a car lacks class."

He put the Mustang into gear and drove the remaining way to the tower in silence. With the heater on, Raven's cloak began to steam, filling the car with the scent of wet wool.

He parked the car and the oddly-matched pair walked to the elevator. They ascended in silence.

"Have you decided what you're going to say?"

"Gonna wing it."

"This is going to be hard to get used to."

"Eh, how often are you going to be letting me speak for you, anyway?" he asked.

"Good point," she said.

When the elevator doors opened, they knew something was up.

"What's that smell?" Raven asked.

Changeling sniffed. "Roast Turkey. Cornbread dressing. My paternal grandmother's recipe. _With_ celery. I haven't smelled it since Nana crossed over the Rainbow Bridge."

He sniffed again. "Roast Tofudabeast. Cyborg's recipe. He's made it once before. When I got dumped."

"That's not weird or anything. Cyborg hates tofu," she said.

"As long as we've got that straight. Any sign of your powers?"

She centered herself. "Just scraps around the edges. Check with me tomorrow."

"Don't get mad, but . . ."

Her eyes narrowed. "What," she said, flatly.

"Stay behind me?"

She ground her teeth, and then grabbed a mop from the corner by the doorway.

"This once."

They stepped into the common room. The blare of video games filled the cavernous space. Cyborg was sitting in the center of the huge couch, twiddling with the controller, filling the room with noise as he raced the computer drones on the big screen. Off to the right, at his workstation, sat Robin, his nose buried in a police report while simultaneously running simulations on a computer screen. Over in the food preparation area, Starfire was humming while stirring something in a bowl. Robin looked up at the doorway. Raven whipped the mop-handle behind her back.

"Oh, hi guys." He turned back to his work.

She reached up and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

"Um – guys . . . "said Changeling, "we want to talk about something."

"What?" said Cyborg, eyes glued to the screen.

"Uh-huh?" said Robin, not looking up from his work.

Starfire, however, began to stir her bowl of questionable batter faster and faster.

"Uh-oh," said Robin.

"I _told _you she couldn't make it five minutes! She's gonna blow! Duck and cover!"

Robin and Cyborg leapt behind the couch as Starfire suddenly dropped her bowl, barreled across the room and grabbed Raven in a bone-crushing hug.

"Friend Raven!" she said with great enthusiasm. "How wonderful! Now we can have the sleepovers and talk about our boys. We can braid out hair and compare them! We can do the double-dating, and we can do the 'hanging out' as 'couples!'"

"Starfire . . . can't breathe . . . need air . . .," squeaked Raven.

Starfire let go of her friend and air whooshed back into Raven's lungs.

"I guess you guys already know, huh?" said Changeling.

"Hard to miss," Cyborg replied.

He raised the remote control and pressed a button. The giant wide screen flashed to life to show Raven and Changeling, in an image about twenty feet tall, lips locked together and in a tight embrace.

"You've gotten about two million hits in the last hour."

Robin grinned. "Cyborg and I wanted to let you have the fun of telling us yourselves, but Starfire couldn't fake it long enough. Sorry."

"What's with the food?"

"Oh, right," Cyborg pressed another button on the remote and a banner unfurled accompanied by a small cloud of confetti. It read "Happy Birthday."

"We didn't have a 'Congratulations' banner," he apologized. "Anyway, the food's for the celebratory party."

The five friends want to the table and Cyborg and Starfire broke out the food. Huge amounts of food and drink were set out. As Raven settled into her chair she remarked, "I'm sorry we didn't get to tell you earlier today."

"Oh, "said Cyborg, biting into some corn on the cob, "We knew before that."

Raven's head swiveled around to look at him. "Oh? How?"

Her head swiveled around to look at Changeling.

"What?" he said.

"Raven," said Cyborg, "You've been sleeping his bed for three months."

Changeling spewed soda from his nose. He looked over at Raven. "Dude, I did _not_ tell him about that."

"Then I'd be interested in how he knew," said Raven, icily. "Cameras in the halls?"

"Raven," said Cyborg blithely, "There are no cameras in the habitat level and you know it. But the security system notified me that there was a change in the pattern of movement in the Tower after midnight. Your door stopped opening at all, and Changelings started opening three times as much."

Starfire nodded. "You have always had the small bladder."

Raven steamed. "Shut. Up."

"I knew," said Robin, to change the subject, "Because the laundry pattern changed. Raven, you used wash your sheets once a week. Now you don't wash them at all. They haven't been in the laundry for three months. On the other hand, Changeling used to wash his sheets every six weeks. Now he washes them every other week."

Starfire grinned. "I just had the woman's intuition. You are too cute a couple to not do the dating. It was only a matter of time."

"Dude," said Changeling, "It wasn't like that. "

Raven interrupted. "Between living with two detectives and your nose, do I have any privacy left a tall?"

"Sorry Raven," said Robin. "We didn't mean to snoop, but your friends care about you."

"How can you "not mean to snoop" though my laundry?" Raven said.

"Snooping?" said Robin, "Um, Raven? I'm the one who folds the sheets."

"Oh, right," said Raven deflating a little.

"And besides," put in Cyborg. "If we're going to talk about snooping, who's the one person on the team who can tell us how everyone else feels, every moment of the day?"

"Hey!" said Raven. "I can't help that. It's like you guys run around the tower yelling all the time and I can't . . . help . . . but . . . hear . . . it." She finished, lamely.

Changeling grinned toothily, and applied himself to a slide of tofudabeast.

The five teens ate and chatted for a little while until Starfire suddenly addressed Raven.

"So," she said, "Now that you are 'the out,' when do I help you move your thinks into Changeling's room?"

Raven's eye's bugged out and a drop of sweat began to run down the side of her face.

"I hadn't even considered that," she thought.

"I – I –"

"Actually," Changeling broke in, "Raven will probably be staying in her room."

"But," said Starfire, "You are in love. Should you not want to be together?"

He glanced over at his prickly girlfriend, who was already having a very hard time with all of this.

"Raven's a really private person. She needs a quiet place to meditate, to read, and to study. My room is none of those things. I'm content that she wants to sleep in my room and live in hers."

Raven smiled at him. Broadly. Warmly.

"Well, not _all_ the time."

After dinner, Raven showered and thought. Then she summoned Starfire, and asked her to pack one drawer from her room into a cardboard box.

"Garfield," she said, "will you please empty the second drawer from the top of your chest of drawers for me?

"Presumptive much? What I don't want you moving in?"

Raven froze and spun her head to look at him. "You don't?"

"Man, Raven, it is entirely too easy to yank your chain. I'm going to have to cut that out."

With great dignity, Raven picked up the cardboard box and walked it across and down the hall, and then, in full view of her friends, opened the box back up and unpacked her night things. Sleeps shirts, flannel pants, tank tops, and the one silk babydoll she owned when into the single drawer. Then she hung a long cotton robe with a dragon pattern on it on a hook by Changeling's door, and her black silk shortie went on a hanger in his closet.

"Okay – I'm moved. Everybody happy?"

"Almost," said Changeling. "Wait here.'

Garfield went to Raven's room and took a single column candle, a small incense burner, and a box of matches. Placing them on "her" side of the bed, he looked up and smiled at her.


	42. SlideDown: Girls will get it Guys wont

Author's Notes:

Shout-outs:

Omeganian – Can't say that I have. Robin might could successfully keep a secret. I don't think Starfire completely understand what a secret IS. At least personally. You can't be a professionally trained warrior and not understand strategic secrets.

Fei-fie-fo-fum – Body switching. Interesting. Have to think that one through.

Shadico – Short? Yeah. I was in a hurry. We're going to get as far as marriage and children. But it may be in some sort of epilogue, like Rowling did with Harry Potter, skipping ahead a few decades. Can't miss Raven's big struggle with her fertility, though.

Kellygirl6754 – Glad you liked it. Yeah, the mood cycles around. I write from life, and life's, you know, like that. Good times and bad.

Shugokage – Nobody controls Raven. I am but her humble chronicler.

Chowbo – Yeah, little short.

Sergeant Daniel – Sorry you're locked out of the lemons. They don't really add that much, anyway.

VickytheRandomest – Really? I would have thought the last one was cheesier. And hey, remembering to review isn't THAT much work. I have to remember to WRITE. So there.

V for Anonymous – Oh, he tortured that out of her during the lemon. It was a lot of fun to write. And that's the plan. I'm going to sum this up at the end.

Lord Vukodlak – I thought I might surprise a few people with that. And yeah, actually, she'd rather have them think they were lovers than admit that she can't control her own dreams. She's funny that way.

LottyPl – Well . . . people wanted them to quit being apart. When young people get together, it gets . . . fluffy.

Nuka – Amnesia? You know, I never considered that. Hmmm . . . .

Nuka – I will probably do an AU story on that theme, but it won't integrate here.

Darkness on the Rise – I'm writing as fast as I can.

Dragonkyng – Glad you liked it. Hope you enjoy this one as much. It came out a little weird. Went in a direction I totally didn't expect.

Funkyhusky – Glad you guys liked it. I update as quickly as I can, but this material isn't coming as fast as some of the earlier stuff. Jinx and Kid Flash? I dunno. I'd have to make their personalities up almost from scratch, there's so little material to go on.

Bloodly Rose 101 – Glad you liked it.

Lord Vukodlak – I'm going with "meeting the 'rents" next. And yeah, it's gonna be a stiff time for Raven. Rita, before her accident, was heralded as THE most beautiful actress in the motion picture industry, and was the most sought after star. Girls are intimidated by this. So yea, twerp sweat time. Flight of Romance? Hmmm . . . their flight modes are so different. Oooh – human or hero. Definitely gonna work that one in.

Mynomdeplume – No worries. My spelling isn't what it ought to be, either. Glad you like the characters, but tip away. There's always more to learn. Yeah – we're gonna to Meet the 'Rents, and Starfire has been DESPERATE to double – date. In fact, you've got a pretty good list of ideas here. But you've dropped the "return of the ex" like a gauntlet of challenge. "Please don't," you say. Hmmmm. So can I do it well enough that you'll like it? The jury is out. If I do it, though Terra will be discovered on the doorstep, bleeding and unconscious, with the obvious body changes indicating that she has given birth to at least one child . . .

Shadico – One of my originally planned ideas was to have raven master her emotions and take her white cloaked form, so we may head in that direction. RagexBeast? That's asking for trouble. Most of Raven's 'attitude' comes from her Rage. Can you imagine the Beast tolerating a female that didn't submit? Can you imagine Rage bending a knee? My hard drive might 'splode trying to contain that. It's got real potential. We'll have to see.

Dertte olmak – I'm glad you liked it. I had no idea I was touching people so deeply.

Tagman122 – Glad you like it. Sadly, this isn't my intellectual property. No way to publish anywhere but here. Trust me, DC is NOT gonna want to buy this stuff.

BiblioMatsuri – Yes, Garfield was blond, blue-eyed, and had a face full of freckles back in the day. Yeah, I liked Fritzi, too. I was sorry to see her go, but that was her purpose in the story. If I bring her back, it cheapens her. Yeah – I have a great time designing those costumes. I wish I could send them to more parties. SMS stands for Small Message System. It the technical term for "texting." Sorry. That's my day job shining through. Thanks. I wasn't sure I could pull off catch-them-before-the-plane-leaves, but I think it works, and I'm glad you liked it. And beg for more chapters all you want. Praise is all the pay I get for this, and it's not like it's "time free" or anything.

Mo – Sorry, writing as fast as I can. It quit pouring out of the keyboard, and I'm having to turn said keyboard upside down and shake it these days.

Dizzy – Sorry aboot tha'. Try heart-spackle. (Kidding) It's just taking longer than before. But I'm not dead, and I won't quit until the story is done.

Dididemoento – What? Me? Cruel?

TW – Thanks. I'm glad to hear from you. Behold: an update.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, let's see. Sorry for the hiatus. But really, it's only been about ten days. As I mentioned above, it's quit pouring from the keyboard, and I've had to start wringing it out. I hope you like what fell out. This chapter was supposed to be that classic teen experience "Meeting the 'Rents." (Parents) Alas, that did not happen. Raven wanted to run an errand, and nothing would do but that her errand got run before anything else happened to "complicate" her life. Because no teen needs "that sort" of "complication." Especially given her background. This chapter, I think, will be a little unexpected, as I expose a little bit of what it's like to be a supernatural teen coming of age in early 21st century north America.

* * *

Raven rose the next morning and stretched. Changeling lay sprawled beside her snoring gently. She slid out of bed quietly and grabbed her long, fuzzy robe. She walked to the door and opened it cautiously, listening for anyone coming, as she'd done for the past three months. Then she remembered she was "out," took a deep breath, and boldly walked to the bathroom, and back to her room to dress. Fully dressed and be-cloaked, she again walked boldly back to Changeling's room and let herself in. It felt decidedly odd.

"This," she thought, "is going to take some getting used to."

She walked, hood down, over to his side of the bed and sat by his side for a moment. It was one thing to have shared his bed as an expedient to get rid of nightmares. It was another entirely to become sexually active. But given him access to her feelings was another entirely. The self-image the Monks of Azarath had built for her, "evil portal of doom," was fading, and over the years she'd built another one in its stead: "Unstable girl-hero teetering on the precipice of darkness." Then, with the defeat of Trigon, she'd started another one: "Scholar, intellectual, Creepy hero." The idea that she could be _anyone's _"girlfriend" simply did not _fit_ with who she thought she was. And yet there _he_ was. A boyfriend. And a lover.

"I mean," she thought, "what am I supposed to _do_ now? And who do I talk to about how my brain has changed? His snoring used to be annoying. Now it's cute. There's _got_ to be something wrong with me."

One morning meditation and jasmine herbal tea later Changeling had scarfed down a breakfast of cold cereal and milk then dove into level nine of _Teenage Mutant Ninja Samurai Monkeys in Space VII. _ She sighed, shook her head and mused.

"I don't get it. He's so wise and, when he puts his mind to it, smart. Why does his waste his time with that crap?"

She shrugged and headed to her room. There, she approached her bookshelf and looked. There it was: The_ Diplomatica Diabolica_. It was a 12th century Welsh tome on how to negotiate with demons. Now, Raven never, ever _summoned_ demons. But other people did, and on the rare occasions that she had to talk to them, well, she didn't want to be "winging it." So it was time for a refresher. She took the book over to her small writing desk and sat down, considering the cover. She'd read the book a dozen times over the years. It would still do her good to go over it again. It had been a while. Then she came to a conclusion.

"First," she thought, "A stop by the garage."

Cyborg kept a small bowl of disposable earplugs in the garage for when people who couldn't just turn off their hearing came to help him and he needed to run the big grinder. She caught up a pair in her hand. Then, book, tea, and earplugs in hand, she headed back to the common room. There, Changeling continued to do battle with monkeys. Or ninjas. Or something. She walked up the couch.

"I'm still not sure how to do this," she thought. She swallowed a little nervously, and then sat down on the couch beside him. She set her tea down on the side table and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He gave no indication that he'd noticed her. What she didn't see was his nostrils flaring. Raven sighed, slightly disappointed, and put her tea down on the side table, then screwed the earplugs in her ears. She opened the _Diplomatica _and started to read. About five minutes later, she twitched, started. An emerald green head of hair had landed in her lap. Changeling was now reclining on the couch, his head in her lap, eyes still on the screen, intent on zapping samurai. Or monkeys. Or something. At no point had he looked up, made eye contact, or said anything. She smiled a tiny, Raven smile. She had a lot to learn, but maybe they'd taken a step toward a "new normal."

"Okay," she said, later that night in their bed. "This morning was very nice, but I need to have some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" he said, head cocked.

"Like, no PDA's."

"Pee-dee-aze?"

She sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot these days.

"Public displays of affection. If you're expecting me to walk along the street holding hands all the time or making out . . ."

Changeling interrupted. "I think I get it. Raven, you're a very private person, and I'd always imagined your affection would be private, too. And that's okay. I'm not sixteen and I don't need you sitting in my lap every minute or to be necking in every shadow we can find around the high school. We're almost in our twenties, and we never went to high school anyway. On the other hand, _I'm_ affectionate. It's part of my charm. And I love you, but I'm not giving up my essential Garfield-ness for you. And that means you're going to have to learn to cope a little. If we're watching TV, I may just put my arm around you, even if the others are there. When we're on a date, brace yourself, because you just might find me holding your hand where other people can see. You try to relax a little, and I'll try not to embarrass you in public."

She opened her mouth to speak, but was distracted because he leaned in to kiss her.

In the weeks that followed, Raven was first surprised as how little changed. Beyond a little teasing, mostly from Cyborg, the Tower had accepted their change in relationship fairly un-phased. After a little uncertainty, she simply went on with her life as if nothing had changed, and tried to adapt where it had. And it went, like the couch, fairly well.

After careful thought, she'd made a call. Then, one day with the rest of the team was in the field, Raven put on a long sleeve shirt, jacket, and jeans. She also broke out a floppy hat and sunglasses. Then, after careful consideration, she made her way to the roof, and glided off toward the city, carefully staying clear of where the rest of the team was addressing a fairly routine bank robbery. She gated to the ground in a narrow alley and then walked to the street. Her soft shoes made no sound on the sidewalk. She walked to the subway, bought a pass, and proceeded across town. Raven didn't leave the Tower often so she had to take care, but she had a good sense of direction. She worked her way through the suit-clad throngs of the business section of downtown Jump City until she came to the building she for which she was looking.

It was an older building. It was Art Deco in design, from just after the turn of the last century, but in good repair, and dozens of stories tall. Sheathed in marble, the lobby was cold and, perhaps for a normal girl, intimidating. Raven walked to the directory with confidence and checked the floor for her destination. She took the express elevator to the thirtieth floor and walked up to the door. Again, in the old school style, the name on the door was etched in the glass: "Alexandra Cross, Gynecology and Obstetrics." She opened the door and walked to the receptionist. She was an older lady, in her mid-thirties. No makeup, slightly overweight, and wearing pink surgical scrubs. She beamed up at Raven.

"Please fill out this form," she said, cheerily.

Raven took the form and looked at it. It was a harmless series of questions about her medical history. There were only two areas where she had a problem.

"Name:" it asked.

She stared at it a long time. Raven had no surname. It was a problem every time she had to fill out an official form. She could have fixed it by going to the courthouse and picking a surname. No one would have cared. But she didn't _have _a surname. No one had given her one, and she wasn't going to just take someone else's. And in any case, her name wasn't going on any records in this office. But, there was an alternative. Raven licked her lips and stared out the window for a second. She'd been named "Raven," by the monks of Azarath. But before she died, Arella had let slip something in an unguarded moment. She'd thought, maybe, if she'd had a daughter, she'd name her. Raven lifted the pen and filled out the form.

"Roth," she thought, "was Mother's surname. I will use it here. And Mother said if things had been different, my name would have been . . . Rachel."

The other section was a little harder. "Insurance." Cyborg handled most of the medical needs in Titan Tower. He went to great pains to make it clear to anyone who saw him working that he wasn't a "real doctor," but he'd had to come to an intimate understanding of the human body in order to maintain, expand, and support his own cyber systems. Under battlefield conditions and in dealing with normal sickness and disease, Cyborg was Raven's go-to guy. But a girl does not go to her big brother for this. Raven returned the form to the window.

"No insurance. I've come prepared to pay cash."

The receptionist blinked, but said, "Ok," and took the form.

Raven was eventually invited back into one of the examining rooms. The nurse, a skinny, dark-haired woman, led her down the narrow hallway lined with small examination rooms. She ushered Raven into the second one on the left. The tiny ten by ten room had a tile floor, a small counter with a host of drawers, a sink, two out-dated magazines, and a hazmat disposal bin on the side. There was a small stool with casters in the room, and the examination table. With stirrups. The nurse took her blood pressure, temperature, and then hit her with a battery of questions.

"How many times have you been pregnant?"

"Zero."

"You sure? If you miscarry early –"

"I've had two partners in my life, both of them this year. I've had sex a total of three times. I've never been pregnant," she said, flatly.

"Moving on . . . are you currently sexually active?"

"Um, I had sex last week. Once. Does that count?"

"Any time in the last six months."

"Okay – current birth control method?"

"Dumb luck. And his nose."

"His nose?"

"Long story. Just put down 'none, and wants to fix it."

"Any history of sexually transmitted diseases?"

"I better not. Or someone is a dead man."

"Date of last mammogram?"

"I'm 20."

"Right, sorry."

"Okay – any other medical issues?

Raven thought for a moment. "Frostbite, hypothermia at near lethal levels, and I was dead or dis-corporated for about three hours. I ran my life energy almost to zero during an empathic healing once; I've broken about sixty bones, most of those at least twice. I burst my spleen twice, I've had about twenty concussions and . . . "

"Young lady, please don't waste my time with a bunch of nonsense."

"I'm just trying to . . ."

"Any irregular periods? (no) Any unusual spotting or heavy bleeding? (no) Unusual acne or abnormal hair growth? (no) Any pelvic pain? (no) Pain with intercourse?" (no)

"Exercise habits?"

"Um, vigorous?

"That's more than four times a week. You sure? Or are you pulling my leg again?"

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Do you smoke? (no) Drink?"

"Um, two glasses of wine every four months?"

"That's a no. Recreational or street drugs?"

"Ew. No."

"Do you feel safe at home?"

Raven thought about that. On the one hand, the Tower attracted attacks by all manner of weirdoes at least once every few weeks. Despite Cyborg's best efforts, the more determined ones kept getting in.

"On the other hand," she thought, "Cyborg _did_ put all that effort into the security, and the rest of her team worked . . . wait."

"You're asking me if I feel threatened by my family, aren't you?"

"Well, yes."

"No." Raven's voice was so cold nearby plants withered.

"Ahem," the nurse continued. "About your family history . . . "

"I'm an orphan. My mother died when I was eight. I'm told she had a suicidal episode right before I was born. I met my father three or four times, but know nothing about his health history, and cannot contact him at this time," she said, flatly.

"Any allergies?"

"None."

"Any mental health issues?"

"No."

"All right then. Please take off _all_ of your clothes and sit on the exam table. Put on this disposable paper gown, and you can use this large paper sheet to cover your groin. The doctor will be in in a few minutes."

The door closed, and Raven contemplated the paper gown and towel. Sighing, she took off her clothes, folding each item carefully as was her wont, and stacking them on the counter. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The pancake makeup she'd on her face to get into the building was a bizarre sight on top of her nude body. She quickly put on the paper gown and spent the next few minutes stripping off the makeup.

After about five more minutes, the door opened and a young girl walked in. She was about 5'2" tall and wore her long brown hair back in a ponytail. She had honey-brown eyes and wore slacks and a polo shirt under her white lab coat. A stethoscope lay across the back of her neck. A name tag sewn to the breast of her coat read "A. Cross."

"Good morning," she said in a perky voice. "I'm Doctor Cross. But you can call me Alex." She extended a hand.

Raven arched an eyebrow and slowly extended a hand. "You're kidding, right?"

The girl took Raven's hand and squeezed firmly. She pursed her lips and said, "I get that a lot. Yes, I'm really Dr. Cross. Yes, I'm almost thirty, and yes, I'm serious."

"I'm sorry, it's just . . . "

"You're nervous, and I wasn't what you expected. It's okay. Like I said, I get that a lot, and I'm sure you'll be happy with my practice. I offer one thing that most other female gyns and almost all male gyns cannot."

"What's that?" asked Raven.

Alex grinned and put her hands up. "Small hands."

Raven blinked for a moment, nonplussed, and then smile. Alex's hands were, indeed, almost as small as Raven's.

"I can see where patients would like that."

"So," said Alex, "As long as we're observing the obvious, Rachel, is that body makeup, a tanning cream gone wrong, or is there yet another cultural phenom that I'm out of the loop on?"

"Um, no," said Raven. "There's nothing wrong with my skin. This is my normal pigment. Don't you know me?"

"You're famous? I don't really follow the news." She looked down at the clipboard again. "Roth?"

Raven sighed. "No. That's a nom d' voyage. My real name is Raven, but I don't want it on any records."

"I see. Can I ask why?"

"You really don't know who I am?"

"Can't say that I do. I love my work, and I'm pretty 'head down' in it, as they say."

Raven winced. "How about the Teen Titans. Ever heard of them?

"Oh sure. Wait. You're the mysterious witch nobody knows anything about?"

Raven winced. "I'm not really a witch. But never mind that. I really need your discretion. I chose you because you work on famous people all the time and they never seem to show up in the tabloids."

"Your secrets are as my own," said Alex. "I take your privacy very seriously. And your health. Are you sure your pigment's normal?"

"It's been that way all my life. Also, we should probably talk about something that's going to affect my care. You see . . . there wasn't a space on your form for 'not quite human.'"

Now it was Alex's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Not quite human?"

"No," said Raven, quietly. "I'm a hybrid. I'm half demon. My father is one of the greater demons. An archduke of Hell, and the Thane of Perdition."

Alex blinked. "I can see why you'd think that would be important. Are you under any other doctor's care?"

Raven smiled. It was a wicked little smile. "Not at this time, but I presume you're inquiring about a psychiatrist? No. I'm not under the care of a shrink. And while I've discovered any number of 'issues' with my childhood and intimacy, one thing I'm _not_ is delusional. I've run into this problem before when I've tried to give a family medical history. What say we take a short 'field trip?'?"

Raven, seated on the examination table and wearing nothing but a paper gown and paper sheet crossed her arms in front of her chest, palms out. She opened her eyes and the glowed an eerie white.

"Pater obsecro intra praedia avertas facium tuam et salva me!"

She jerked her hands apart and down and arched her neck back, looking up. An unearthly chime sounded, and the walls, ceiling, and floor of the examination room fell away into infinity. Alex found herself standing on a flat-topped mesa inside an enormous cavern. The floor and walls glowed red with large black shadowed that seemed to pulse along them. In the distance, red fires burned, lava flowed, and the scent in the air alternated between the rotten stench of old blood, and the eye-watering scent of brimstone.

"Welcome to my father's home. This is Outer Perdition. He's not here right now, and won't be home, hopefully for about a thousand years. But if we stay here long enough, one of his servants will show up to find out who's been opening gates, but we're safe for a few minutes. Do you need to see anything else?"

Alex's head whipped back and forth, trying to take in everything. Raven, still seated on the exam table, was the only "normal" thing left around her. She edged closer to the sorceress.

"I've seen enough. Take me back, please!"

"Aetheres aperti, area evanescunt. Ventis iustitae, nos auferat domum."

Raven again chanted and gestured, and Alex found herself standing back in her exam room, blinking under the harsh florescent lights.

"What _was _that?"

"I told you," Raven replied. "I took you Outer Perdition, one of the domains my father rules."

Alex's eyes were wide and her face was tense.

"I may have over done it," thought Raven. "She looks ready to bolt."

"Please," said Raven quietly. "I'm all of the things you've seen. But I'm also just a girl who's fallen in love, and doesn't want to get pregnant. Please help me."

She sat there looking at Dr. Cross, eyes wide, breathing even, and wearing a paper robe with no back under a paper sheet.

Alex blinked again. She'd heard about things like this happening in Jump City, but she'd never actually seen it herself. She slowly sank down onto the little rolling stool.

"Why don't you tell me a bit more about yourself?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"I suppose not. But it would make this easier for me."

Raven sighed, and closed her eyes. Speaking slowly, and without inflection, she told the story. Even Changeling didn't know all of the details, and of course she didn't go into the gritty details, but she talked about who conceived her, and why they had done it. Her early childhood, the death of her mother, the prophecy, and the Portal.

" . . . and that," she finished up, "Is pretty much why am I who I am."

"And since then, you've been trying to open up to your emotions, and have a normal life? You've fallen in love twice, and your only help has been three mutant guys and an alien from another planet?"

"Um, yeah?"

Raven suddenly found herself engulfed in a hug. Her eyes got wide and her pupils shrank to pinpoints as Alex's emotions washed over her. Sympathy, sorrow, joy, and yes, a little pity, but not too much. Raven hesitated, the squeezed back, just a little. After a moment, she disengaged.

"I'm sorry," said Alex, "But your life's been so _hard._"

"I hadn't really thought of it that way," said Raven. "It's just been . . . my life."

"I'll bet you're having trouble sleeping, you're short-tempered, and you have difficulty forming intimate relationships of any kind, aren't you?"

"I, um, look, I need birth control pills, not a shrink. We're way off base here, and you're getting out of line."

"All right. Shall we get started?"

After about twenty minutes, Alex kicked back. "Raven, informally, I can tell you that everything looks fine. We'll be sending that cell sample out to a lab for testing, but they're unlikely to find anything wrong."[1]

"Thank you," said Raven, breaking out her pancake makeup again.

"But Raven, about earlier . . ."

Raven turned her head to look at her, expression flat.

"I'm your doctor. If I suspect cancer, I will refer you to an oncologist. If I suspect arthritis, I will send you to an orthopedist. It's my responsibility as a physician. Raven, no human being could possibly have gone through everything you have gone through and not need help sorting it out."

She wrote a name and phone number on a piece of paper.

"This psychiatrist values your privacy almost as much as I do. Please consider contacting her."

Raven took the paper and put it in her pocket without looking at it.

"I'll think about it."

Back at the Tower, Raven leaned over Garfield and whispered in his ear, "We need to talk."

He looked around and accompanied her to his room.

"So, um, what's up, Raven? Is something wrong?"

"No," she said. "But you said guys never get good news in a conversation that starts with that, so I thought we would."

He laughed out loud. "Good one! So. Good news? I repeat: what's up?"

She looked away and blushed a little. She hemmed and hawed for a moment, and then just shoved the pills at him.

"You're going on birth control pills? Sweet!"

"My first gyn appointment was one of the most awkward and embarrassing afternoon of my life. But I can't start them until right after my next, um, time of the moon, and then I have to be on them for a month before I'm 'safe.' So _you_ get the joy of buying condoms until then."

He grinned toothily. "Already done. Check the drawer, bedside."

She leaned over and opened the drawer. Two 24 pack boxes. She winced and a drop of sweat ran down the side of her face.

"Two twenty four packs for thirty days. I think he likes me."

* * *

[1] It was at this point that I realized that: 1) Girls already know what happens at a gyn exam and 2) guys can Google it. I saw no point in going into the chapter and verse of Raven's exam. If you want to know the details, Google it. It was normal, pap smear and all.


	43. Midway City

Shadico – Glad you liked it. No, things don't go hideously wrong _all _the time. I _like_ these characters, so I try not to torture them to no point.

BoutsofInsanity42 – Time to kill it, eh? I can see the end from here, true. I was afraid breaking the sexual tension as well as settling into the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend would stink the place up. Maybe it has. But I have a few more scenes that I want to write. Then we'll call it a day.

The Fat Lantern – No, no hurricane for me. At the risk of giving too much away, hurricanes are simply not a worry where I live. No, the delay was just that as I'm coming to the end, the words aren't coming as easily as they used to.

Shugokage – Always nice to hear from you. Glad you liked it.

JohnxGambit – Inner Rabbit? You've lost that me on that one.

Hairul – Yeah, well, maybe. But remember, she's a masseuse. She can probably deal with the soreness.

TW – Glad you liked it.

Lord Vukodlak – No problem. Like I said, I was all set to have Dr. Cross lean forward and get to work when I realized that girls already knew what was going to come next, and guys who want to know can google it. And yeah, you're right. And Arkham is over on the other coast.

NicoleThePenguin – Updating as fast as it comes out of the keyboard.

MyNomdeplume – The Grand-High Mistress of Tease-fu? I thought that was a little edgy for a woman as normally reserved as Raven. I only felt justified because of the amount of frivolity already in the air at the Halloween party. Would seeing that much of her be justified? On the other hand, the schadenfreude-ian humor Raven is so known for is something I've under developed. Food for thought. I suppose we're due to wander around inside Changeling's head a bit as well. I've also had some thoughts about the Return of the Ex. I found Terra's appearance in the TV show endlessly frustrating because I wanted them to focus on this pairing, and I've really enjoyed her absence. But should she actually be seen in this text, I will start with a brutal beating.

V for anonymous – Sorry, I hadn't realized that I'd only dealt with Raven's 'birthmark' in the Lemon. For the minors (and blue-nosed) in the audience, Raven has a small, Celtic-style tattoo on the small of her back. The raven is extremely well detailed in the style of Celtic knot work by a master artist. When she got it, she believed that no one would ever see it, and was trying to celebrate her alone-ness. It was sort of in an effort to become reconciled to being a filthy bird of ill-omen. "I am Raven, hear me roar." At this point in her life, she feels that it no longer fits and is embarrassed by the decision she made to get it. So she hides about it and lies about it, claiming that it's a birthmark, if people glimpse it.

Kellygirl6754 – No, an accidentally pregnant Raven would be way out of character for her. I'm going to explore her issues with her fertility before we are done, but not like that.

Nuka – Yeah. I'm doing my best, but I'm not as inspired. I kinda feel like I'm forcing it. (Except for Cold Rain. That was a lot of fun.)

Chowbo – Glad you liked it. I was afraid that "My First Trip to the Gynecologist" would be just too weird for most people's taste.

HinaLuvLuvChan – Glad you liked it. I could see the sweat-drop animation in my head as I wrote it.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – Glad you like my approach.

I' . – Hey, the pagan babes that run in my pack say that. I thought it sounded appropriately mystic-y for Raven. And she's such a private person; I can't imagine her saying "period" to her boyfriend.

Greyshield – Thanks for all the feedback. I appreciate it. Gee whiz. Hardly _anybody _liked BB's Parade of the Blonds. And I was specifically trying to make them likeable, too. Sorry – was the 'ew' for how I handled the lemon or that it existed at all? Did I say Starfire was six feet tall somewhere? I didn't mean to. To my mind, both of the girls are relatively short, although there is more of the comic book Starfire than there is to the other characters. In the scene at the end of "Fear Itself," the Titans are all watching the sunrise, and Starfire is drawn about a head taller than Raven, and actually slightly taller than Robin. (Cy, of course, towers over all of them. But then, when you get to build your own legs, _wouldn't_ you be taller than all the other dudes around?) You're right, 105 is way to light for her. Didn't think it through. Assuming that Tameranians share human averages, and that Starfire has reached her adult growth by this time in this story, according to livestrong dot com, she should be about 5' 3 and weigh about 130 pounds, depending on her body type. Given a heroic build, with a lot of muscle mass, (not to mention her grebnaks) we'll call it 150.

Harper – Can't write any faster unless someone can afford to pay me so that I can quit my day job. This project's already got all the creative energy and time I can afford to give it. She canna take anymore Cap'n.

* * *

From the Author:

Again, sorry the word rate has dropped so far off, but it's gotten harder. I'd like to again state how much I appreciate all of the feedback and comments that I'm getting on this project. It's the only pay I get. The more feedback I get, the more I'm encouraged to write. I'm sorry the story and the characters aren't going in a direction that pleases everybody, but I knew the job was dangerous when I took it. Thanks for sticking with me as far as you have come.

In this Chapter, we leave Jump City and go to a halfway across the continent; Midway City is in Michigan, near Sault St Marie, and the domain of the Doom Patrol. The Doom Patrol makes only a single appearance in the TV show, in "Homecoming," the two part Season Five premiere. Although the Brotherhood of Evil are the recurring villains of the season, we never see the Doom Patrol again. Accordingly, I've worked mostly from the comic book versions of the characters. Now, as my bio mentions, I'm almost certainly Older Than You, and my familiarity with the Doom Patrol comes from their original incarnation, and let me tell you something. You think the Titans have a dysfunctional background? The Doom Patrol can barely manage to exist as human beings. I really don't get how Garfield could possibly have emerged from that toxic environment as upbeat as he is. In any case, I've run into quite a few challenges integrating the comic book characters from so long ago with the far more recent Teen Titans. I think I've done a pretty good job so far.

Looking farther down the road, there's another lemon, a Flight of Romance, and a proposal. But before that, there will be Dinner with the 'Rents.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

It was several weeks later that Raven was awakened from a sound sleep by a persistent beeping sound. Harsh and sharp, it grated on her ears until she dragged her eyelids open and sat up, blearily propping herself up on one elbow. The mixed silver-white light of late dawn and early morning filled the room, banishing the shadows to the deep corners. Normally a morning person, Raven had intended to sleep in this morning. It had been a particularly late night last night as Control Freak and Overload had teamed up to rob, vandalize, or terrorize over a dozen different video and TV vendors in the city. Using Control Freak's super-charged remote the duo of desperadoes teleported all over town, wreaking havoc wherever they went. It had been up to Raven to gate the team back and forth whenever the bad guys were within her range. It had taken most of the night, and Raven and Garfield hadn't gotten to bed until four o'clock in the morning. She squinted at Garfield's clock.

"Six-thirty?" she grumbled. "What's that noise?"

She looked around. Garfield's belt communicator. Raven didn't have many friends outside of the Tower. This and her rather prickly personality led to some rather informal phone etiquette. Not thinking clearly, she reached across his soundly-sleeping form and grabbed the comm from the bedside, opened up and spoke.

"What?"

A dulcet, cultured female voice said, "Good morning," as the video screen popped into focus.

"What do you want?" Raven asked, flatly.

"I seem to have caught you at a bad time, but I would like to speak to my son, please."

"Son?"

It was at this point Raven woke up enough to realize three things: First, this wasn't Garfield's round Titan communicator. This one was black, rectangular, and had a purple triangle embossed on the cover. It was his Doom Patrol comm. Two: the only woman in the Doom Patrol was Rita Farr. Rita was many things, but at the moment Raven could only think of one thing – she was Garfield's mother. And finally, three: She's just answered Garfield's video phone while wearing what was obviously her night-clothes. She was wearing a dark blue heavy cotton top, sleeveless, with spaghetti straps over white flannel pants. Her hair was frowsy and clearly sleep tousled, and her boyfriend's mother was on the other end of the line.

One corner of the beautiful woman's perfect lips turned up in a tiny smirk. "Yes, my son. Garfield Logan? I think you're calling him 'Changeling' these days? If his belt communicator is in your hands, I presume his belt, pants, and the contents of said pants are somewhere nearby. I'd like to speak to him, please."

Raven blinked. There was absolutely no way out of this with anything but her dignity left.

"Of course," she said, politely. "Please excuse me."

She pressed the mute button and turned the video pickup away. The she leaned over Garfield and shook his shoulder gently.

"Changeling?"

No answer.

"Garfield?" She shook a little harder and spoke a little louder.

Snores.

Raven took a firm grip on Changeling's shoulder, shook him like a frog in a blender, and shouted "BEAST BOY!" at not _quite_ the top of her lungs.

His eyes opened blearily.

She handed the comm to her boyfriend, who looked at it uncomprehendingly.

"It's your mother," she said, flatly.

"Good morning, Garfield," said Rita, almost as flatly.

Changeling snapped awake, jerking the comm from Raven's hands, flinging it into the air, end-over-end.

"Gaaah," he exclaimed, diving for the comm and catching it before it hit the floor. He had slept in a wife-beater T shirt and purple boxers. He landed flat on his face on the floor, catching the comm just in time.

He rose from the floor and walked over to his desk.

"Hello, Rita," he said. "Sorry for the confusion. We were up really late last night."

"I can see that," his mother replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Not like that!" he said quickly. "We were working."

"And working hard, too I see."

He sputtered.

"Never mind that, sweetie. I was calling to check up on you. You said you were coming out, maybe to stay for awhile, and then you cancelled without explanation, and you didn't call back. I was wondering if you were all right. Clearly I didn't need to worry."

Her eyes sparkled with merry malice.

"Well, see . . ." he started.

The older woman laughed.

"I do see, indeed. I'll let you tend to whatever it is you do in the mornings. Call me later in the day when we can talk. Bye for now."

"Um, bye?"

He looked up from the comm. Raven was staring at him, brows furrowed.

"Raven? What's up?"

"Your mother just found me in your bed, and I'm working very hard to find a way to make it your fault."

"No fair! _You_ answered the comm!"

"I know. That's why I have to work at it. Don't worry; I'll have it figured out by lunch."

Still exhausted, he slid back into bed and the two of them went back to sleep. Several hours later, they awoke again, somewhat refreshed, dressed, and headed to the common room for lunch. It was close to mid-day, and the vast windows of Titan Tower looked out on blue skies and puffy white clouds. Commercial traffic moved about the surface of the Bay. After a quick meal, Raven turned toward the roof access stair.

"I'm going to go meditate. You should call your mother."

"But . . ."

"I know. I'm embarrassed, too. Better to get it over with."

Changeling sighed, and headed back to his room. He left the comm on the charger and sat down at his desk. Opening the computer, he ran through the sequence to open the DoomNet and typed "Seek: Elastagirl."

After only a moment the screen flickered and Rita's face and upper body appeared. She smiled.

"Hello Casanova!"

"Mom, please don't mess with me."

Rita laughed good-naturedly, and then leaned forward toward the video pickup, an intent look on her face.

About forty minutes later, Garfield approached Raven in the common room with a hangdog expression on his face.

"What?" she asked.

He heaved an epic sigh. "We have to go visit my parents. They want to meet you. Mom, especially."

"We can't just pick up and leave. That would leave the team down two people."

Robin, from his nearby workstation put in, "No way. I can't get anybody in to cover the manpower at this short a notice. Changeling, you're going to have to re-schedule."

Changeling shook his head, not looking at Raven. "Rita already thought of that. The Doom Patrol just put a big smack down on the Brotherhood of Evil last week. Madame Rouge is in an orbital prison, the Brain is in jail, and Mallah is on the run. _We_ just cut General Immortus off at the knees, which means that the Doom Patrol is actually going through a quiet cycle. She's sending Robotman and Negative Man to cover for us. She figures an extra cyborg and Larry's dark spirit will shake things up with our enemies."

Robin blinked. "That's not a bad idea. Cyborg and Cliff could compare notes, and Larry's dark matter can fly, so he could probably cover for Raven very well."

Raven glared at him. "I'm very disappointed in you."

"Sorry," said Robin. "A good idea is a good idea."

"You only say that because we can't force you to go meet Starfire's parents."

Robin grinned.

"We'll cut loose a linked pair of Shards of the T-ship for you. Robotman and Negative Man will probably be bringing a verti-jet we can use if we need to leave town. You guys try to relax and have a good time. You can take off Friday morning," Robin finished.

And that was that. The rest of the week flew by at a disturbing pace and before Raven and Garfield could turn around, they found themselves staring at the linked Shards of the T-ship, getting ready to board. Each of them stowed a small overnight bag in the small cargo area of their Shard. They hugged and boarded the independent cockpits. Each pilot strapped themselves into a five point retraining harness and started the pre-flight check. Both put on headphones and began to exchange commentary.

Eventually, Raven said, "That's it. Igniting the primaries."

The T-ship shook as the main engines came on-line and the bird began to move. The two worked closely, Changeling as acting as pilot and Raven as flight engineer, until they were east bound and clear of the Jump City traffic.

Changeling engaged the autopilot saying, "Well, that's it, until we get near the Midway City approach."

"Midway City? Michigan? Isn't that like, only an hour from Steel City?"

"Uh huh."

"So, why is the Doom Patrol based so close in to the Titan's East? I mean, didn't Robin and Cyborg put Titan's East in a region that's not got superhero coverage?"

"Eh, the Doom Patrol doesn't stay around Midway City, or Michigan enough for them to do much good. I mean, sure, if a giant mole machine bursts up in the middle of the park and starts spewing soldiers out, and they're in town they jump in, but they don't run regular patrols like we do. They're always jetting off somewhere, chasing the Brotherhood of Evil, or assorted other bad guys that put in the miles."

"Makes sense, I guess," Raven said, and the two fell silent.

A couple of minutes later, Raven could make out the tell-tale beeps over the comm system that indicated that Changeling had broken out his pocket Gameboy and started playing. Raven sighed and kept an eye on the active radar. There was not supposed to be anything on their flight path.

"But _somebody_ should be watching where we're going," she thought.

The young people cruised in companionable silence for a while before Raven heard a snort over the comm.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking about stereotypes and how we're backwards."

"Backwards?"

"Well, I don't know if 'backwards' is the right word. But I'm pinned in place with no way to escape. Most girls would take advantage of the opportunity to force me to talk about our relationship."

"I wasn't aware that our relationship needed talking about," Raven replied.

"I don't think it does. But the stereotype of 'woman' is that they _always_ think relationships need to be talked about. And if either of us is a 'relationship talker,' it's me. And I'm the guy," he went on. "This would normally be the time for you to pin me down and talk about stuff I don't want to discuss, because I can't get away."

Raven was silent. Too silent.

"Raven?"

"I'm trying to decide if you're saying I'm a 'bad girlfriend,' we're in a 'bad relationship,' or I'm 'bad at being a woman."

"WHAT? No! Wait! Back up! I didn't say _any_ of those things! I was talking about 'stereotypes.'"

Raven gave a quiet laugh. "Calm down. I'm 'doing the teasing,' as Starfire would say. I'm new at it. Like it?"

"Not really," he grumbled.

They flew along a little longer.

"I've decided that I don't like this," Raven said.

"Oh?"

"Yes. The next time we road trip, I want to fly commercial, if it's too far to fly ourselves."

"Why, Raven?" asked Changeling.

"In these single cockpits, I can't reach out and touch you," she answered.

Changeling thought about that for a moment. Since they'd starting dating, she always seemed to be nearby. Usually sitting near him with a book in her hand and earplugs jammed in her ears.

"Um, Raven? You don't really, you know, reach out and touch me that often. I do most of our touching."

"I know. I just like to be able to."

The two young people flew into the Midway City traffic pattern and then landed at a small, non-descript field just outside of town. There were only two hangers, a large one and a smaller one, and what appeared to be a well-used rocket gantry.

"We're not landing at headquarters?" Raven asked.

"That's right, this is your first trip to Midway city. Doom Patrol HQ doesn't have off-street parking."

"What?"

We're downtown, not on a private island like Titan Tower. It's more like the Fantastic Four or Dr. Strange."

The T-ship landed and Changeling drove it into an open hangar. The fluorescent lights gleamed on the polished concrete floor. There sat a scorched verti-jet, still needing a paint job from the business with general Immortus. He shut down the engines and unbelted. Grabbing his overnight bag, he said, "C'mon. I like showing this to people. It's pretty cool and I don't get to show it off very often."

He led her to an elevator with only two buttons. He hit the lower one and the two teens rode the car down to what looked for all the world like a private subway station. The light was softer and warmed here than in the hanger above. The tile-lined room was illuminated with bare incandescent bulbs. The subway car in from of them had a gull-wing hatch, and the exterior was made of brass.

"Very steampunk," said Raven. "What the next step, Captain Nemo?"

Changeling gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty old. Cliff wanted to install mag-lev years ago, but Steve likes the old gear, and keeps it maintained. It's not very energy efficient, though."

The couple sat down in heavily padded leather seats, and Changeling buckled a five point harness. When she saw the heavy-duty harness, Raven began to get a little concerned.

"So, this 'Steve,' he's pretty safety- minded, is he?"

"Sort of. But that's mostly Rita."

Raven buckled her harness.

"Ready?" asked Changeling.

"I guess," replied Raven.

"I love this part."

Changeling reached up and snapped four red toggle switches labeled "Engines" to the "go" position. Then he reached over and set two more dials. Then he checked to gauges.

"Atomic batteries to power! Turbines to speed!"

The car began to vibrate in time with a low-frequency hum. The internal lights dimmed, and Raven could see some kind of garage door coming down outside the closed hatch, blocking off the subway station.

"Let's hit it!"

Changeling slapped a large, bright red button labeled "Ignition" in the center of the console, and the car was filled with a shattering roar. The interior lights went out as the car shuddered and leapt from its position at the station.

"Gaaaah!" shouted Raven, startled.

Illuminated only by the light from the console, she was pressed back into the heavily padded seat by the force of the acceleration.

"Wooooo-hoooo!" shouted Changeling, his hands gripping the armrests.

"What! Are! You! Doing?" Raven shouted.

"4.8 G's baby! Welcome to the Doom Patrol's rocket-sled subway! Hang on! The retro-rockets are gonna fire any second."

"Retro-?" Raven began, but the roar of powerful engines drowned her out as she and Changeling were thrown forward against their restraining straps as the car decelerated sharply.

Raven leaned forward, her hair concealing her face. Her hands shook slightly from the sudden adrenaline dump and her stomach heaved.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That?"

"Um, the Rocket Sled? Wasn't it cool?"

Just then the door to the car hissed as it opened up on a second station. This one was elegantly finished with hand fitted tiles and hardwood detailing. Gas lamps cast a golden light through the fog and mist that filled the air. Raven pulled her hair back behind one ear at looked up. There, silhouetted in the doorway was a woman. The first thing Raven noticed about her was her high, prominent bust-line and narrow waist. Her hips flared, finishing the hourglass shape of vintage feminine beauty. There was a sharp click, and the lights in the interior of the car came back on. Rita Farr wore a simple, white tea-length dress. It was strapless and flowed around her mid-calves. She wore low heels and her wavy brown hair was pulled back from her face with a simple black band. Her eyes were deep green, and twinkled.

"Welcome to Midway City, and our home."

Raven sat for a moment in the seat. Her hood was askew and her hair tousled from the quick acceleration. Her hands shook from the sudden adrenaline dump and her eyes were bloodshot from the negative G's of the sudden stop. She'd been nervous enough about meeting Garfield's mother, but now the rocket-sled had her stomach trying to escape through her mouth. She took a deep breath and while she released the restraints and rose shakily to her feet. As she stepped out of the car, she grasped Rita's extended hand firmly.

"Thank you. This was _not_ the way I'd hoped to meet you."

"I know dear. Don't worry."

Rita's eyes moved to Changeling, who was untangling the over-night bags from the safety nettings.

"Garfield, why didn't you take the car?"

"There was a car?" asked Raven.

"Yes, dear. Parking is limited downtown, but we have a small garage that will hold two cars we use for city driving. I left one at the airfield for you."

Raven turned her head to glare at Garfield. "There was a car."

"But – but the rocket-sled is _cool_. Right? Right? Hey guys, wait up!"

Rita sighed and led Raven into the elevator, leaving Garfield to wrestle with the overnight bags. This first thing Raven noticed about the Doom Patrol based once the adrenaline-filled arrival was over, was a murmuring voice. It was low, and masculine. It had an interrogative tone, but she couldn't make out any words.

"Come on upstairs," said Rita. "I'll show you to your rooms. Garfield? I'm putting her in the Blue Room. When you get those bags untangled, you can drop hers in the Blue Room. You're in your room of course."

Garfield sighed and shook his head. He didn't say anything aloud, but thought, "The Blue Room is on the first floor, and at the other end of the house from my room."

Rita spoke as she walked. "I should have warned you, or at least been more specific to Garfield. Back in the day, we did a lot of work in space. Sometimes we had to get into action _very _quickly. We kept a rocket on the gantry at all times, and the rocket sled was put in so that we could be in orbit within forty minutes of an alert. With the _Watchtower_ in orbit now, the Justice League handles all of that work, and our rocket is no longer necessary. But Steve keeps the rocket sled maintained for emergency use when we need to get to the airfield in a tearing hurry."

"And Garfield," Raven replied, "Likes to play with it."

Rita laughed warmly. "So he does."

Raven walked quietly beside Rita as the older woman led her though the mansion. The Doom Patrol Headquarters was either a _very_ large house or a small mansion. Three stories tall and eight or ten rooms to a floor, it occupied a respectable chunk of the downtown city block where it stood. The building was designed in a post-colonial style with a red tile roof, dormer windows and cupola. The main body of the house was whitewashed in the old style, and there was a heavy porch with a shaded widow's walk and peaked roof over the front door. Weathered brick chimneys protruded here and there from the rooftop, indicating that some rooms had fireplaces below.

The young girl looked around. The walls were white, with a wooden wainscot at the bottom. The hallway was richly detailed with heavy crown molding and other wooden federalist-style details around each door and window. The windows were tall and relatively narrow, while the hallway itself was broad and well lit. Every ten feet or so, a brass sconce protruded from the wall, providing warm light, filling in the shadows where the daylight from the windows was insufficient. The only thing really odd about the place was that low, murmuring voice.

"Nice place," said Raven, sincerely. "After our experience with your verti-jet, I was expecting something a little more . . . austere."

Rita laughed warmly. "That would be Steve's influence. _I_ have to live here. There is no way I'm going to live like that all the time. I have my own money, and I'll spend it how I please."

Raven smiled back tentatively. They soon arrived at the door to Raven's room. Rita opened it and the two women stepped into bedroom. The plaster walls were painted a rich sky-blue and all of the trim work was in white. On the wall opposite the door was a fireplace with a black iron insert and white wooden surround. In the center of one wall was a four poster bed with navy blue curtains. There was an electric wall sconce, and the side table held a small candelabrum with three candles. The floor was richly carpeted with an antique Persian rug with blue highlights.

Raven blinked. "Um. Wow."

"It's okay then?" asked Rita.

"Sure. It's very nice, thanks."

"Garfield will be along with your bag shortly. I'll leave you to settle in. Dinner's at six. It's informal, just the four of us. Steve was supposed to meet you with me, but, as usual, his head was buried in his work and he couldn't stop when we needed him to. You'll meet him at dinner."

Rita departed, leaving the door open behind her. Raven wandered the room, opening drawers and cabinet doors.

"Hey," said a voice from the door. It was Garfield, still burdened with the two overnight bags. "Sorry for the rocket ride. I really did think you'd like it."

She smiled, "It was exciting all right. Next time give me a heads-up."

"Room okay?" he asked, tossing her bag on the bed.

"It's great. I mean dust-ruffles are never going to be my thing, but most of it suits me. You?"

"She put me in my old room. Heh. I left the when I was fourteen. Apparently, she treated my room as a shrine. Nothing, and I mean _nothing's, _has been touched since I left to head out on my own."

"I'm looking forward to seeing the haven of the junior you."

"You already have. It's almost identical to the room I used to have in Titan Tower. Bunk Beds and all." He laughed.

"That's going to be awkward," Raven replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to have a hard time sleeping in your bed if it's a single."

"Raven, my room is three floors above this one, and on the other side of the building. I think Mom is trying to tell us something."

"I see," she said.

Raven was quieter than usual as she unpacked.


	44. Meet the 'Rents

Shout-Outs:  
Dylanbiancamano – Why am I putting things from the Marvel universe into the DC universe? Well. Hm. How do I put this? I know: Because I am the all-seeing, all-knowing, all powerful GOD of this universe. *FLASH* *Crack-BOOM* Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! *Ahem* Sorry. Got a little carried away there. But there is no telling what I will do in here.

Dragonkyng – True, true. But part of the point of this exercise is exploring MY take on old tropes. I hope you like where I take it.

Lurk Vukodlak – I don't recall. Probably. I've read a LOT of fics about this pairing. It's one of the reasons I'm doing this. Those are two pretty good ideas. And Rita might have a particularly pressing interest in grandchildren given her true age.

Omeganian – You are likely correct, but in two different directions.

Guest – An old-fashioned one.

Justafly – Other people have said the same thing, and I have to admit, more recently it's been a bit of a challenge. But I still think that Cold Rain is one of my more fun efforts.

Katwizzle – We don't know that it's the relationship she doesn't like.

Lady of the Gags – Glad you liked it. I did my best to make Aqualad an almost utterly unredeemed douche.

Dazzling Amethyst – Meeting the 'Rents is always tough for everyone. If you ask me, though Garfield had it harder than Raven.

JohnxGambit – 'Rents do that. Especially when we're young.

PaulieJuice – Well, she DID push him RIGHT to the edge. But we're writing a romance here.

Shugokage – Well, most of the Doom Patrol isn't home this weekend.

Shadico – Oh, they'll deal with the problem.

i-rule-peace – Interesting? Exciting, maybe, but his response would be, I think fairly obvious. But I won't be writing that particular scene. Garth (Aqualad is a player and a douche. But he's not a villain. He wouldn't do such a thing. Some lines he will not cross. Just walk right up to them and look over.)

Nuka – Back? Well, sorta. He may have to grow up, but he will never abandon his essential Garfield-ness. And yeah, the Doom Patrol's family dynamics. The Chernobyl Reactor ran better. I'm not looking forward to seeing some of this.

TW – That's my hope.

Gyhy – Thanks. I'm glad you're willing to spend the time on it. Oh, my Espanol bites the wax tadpole. I just threw the dialogue into Google Translate. Same for the French. You liked The Talk the most? I had fun with it, but it was really short. And you can tell me how great I'm doing as many times as you want. I promise, I won't get bored. Can't do baby pictures. Garfield was WAY past the baby-pictures stage before he came to the Doom Patrol.

Sharpclaws – Glad you liked it. It turned out to be one of my favorite chapters.

Chowbo – Hm. A whole lot more people are concerned about Rae's nightmares that I expected. Glad you liked the rocket-sled. Did you catch where the checklist came from? "Atomic batteries to power! Turbines to speed!"

Wajinga watu – Yeah. It's the nature of their characters, though. Under different circumstance, Raven could have been content to live in a cave, meditate and read old books, never seeing another human being. I think she'd have been miserable, but she wouldn't have known to seek companionship. Garfield, on the other hand, is driven to be among people. Recall his desperate attempt to join the Doom Patrol. And who of the five of them worked so hard to get to know the others the night Starfire came to Jump City? So it would follow that Garfield had many options. While for Raven, well, if dating were fishing, the fish would have to jump in the boat. And yeah, especially in the earlier chapters, I blew through way too fast and didn't keep the spelling and markups tight enough.

And if I'd remembered Paolo Puttanesca, I would have used a different animal. All that effort to create high action/drama, and now whenever I read it, I'll hear "whaaaaa!" You are cruel. Just for that: don't think of a purple rhino drinking from a teacup every ten minutes until you go to sleep tonight.

Further, all I can say is "Yo no hablo Espanol." Trust me – Raven wouldn't let me take the story ANYWHERE else until she dealt with her gyn. That girl is ALL about the fertility. No filler there, no.

Glad you like Cy's imagery.

My current update schedule? Once in a blue moon.

Nos482reborn – Glad you like it. Welcome to the party.

Huntress of the Shadows – Glad you liked the chapter. I make no judgement upon those who don't review. I just drag my feet on updates. Phbbbbt!

LovelyMagicDarkStrength – Summon me, and I appear!

Doa – Ask, and I answer!

Inu-rulz: Glad to hear from you. Welcome to the party!

Boys Arrows: Can't be making you weep internally. You might rupture something.

BBLover: Glad you like it. It's been work to get to this chapter out. Some of what you're looking for will be in the next chapter.

Animallover56328 – Glad you like it. It's been a real challenge to write a romance for Raven without breaking her character.

Felerial – I swear upon my keyboard: I will not abandon this tale until it is done. Fear not. There may be long stretches with no updates, but I won't stop until it's done.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I'm sure everyone has noticed the long silence between updates. I have two or three more critical scenes that I want to write before we are done, and I'm having a hard time getting there. "Meet the 'Rents" is a critical coming-of-age experience, and as Garfield has already met Raven's one surviving parent at this point in his life, I had to write it for Raven. Unfortunately, Garfield doesn't come from a happy background either. In fact, he's gotten very few breaks since he got the sakutia virus. Most of this chapter is actually dialogue as Garfield brings Raven up to speed on the dysfunctional snakepit that is the the family dynamics of Doom Patrol headquarters. Also complicating this chapter is the grim fact that I've not been running with the more recent incarnations of the Doom Patrol. My experience with them comes from their _first_ incarnation, and there are certain characteristics inherent in the characters that just don't fit the current social mores. So I hung a lampshade on it.

Looking down the road, the next chapter will be dinner with Rita and Mento and a private heart-to-heart between Rita and Raven. We'll also see what happens when Rita and Raven leave Garfield and Steve alone together for the first time since he quit the Doom Patrol.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

Raven quietly unpacked all of her clothes from the overnight bag. True to Raven's character it was a simple kit: a spare fighting leotard sans spare cloak. An extra cloak would have taken up too much room in the small bag. A t-shirt and jeans, just in case. Sleepwear. And the Little Black Dress. She was also carrying her travel makeup kit. Unlike the "emergency repair kit" she'd carried to South America, it was a larger "girly tool kit."

With all in order, she turned to Garfield.

"So, you Mom knows I'm sharing your bed. Why did she put us in different rooms at opposite ends of the mansion?"

He rubbed the back of his head and looked away. "Well, see . . . I guess there's some . . . stuff I should have told you before we came out here."

"Stuff?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay. For starters, Rita and Steve are older than the look. A _lot_ older. Here."

He popped open his comm, put it in Internet Mode, and pulled up the Internet Movie Database.

"See? "

Raven looked at the small screen.

"You're kidding," said Raven, her eyes on the tiny print.

"I know, right? Rita's early work in Hollywood was in the late 1950's."

"But that can't be," Raven said. "She's maybe in her late 40's. If she was acting in movies in the '50's, she should be, like, eighty by now."

"Here's something else." He keyed on the small screen.

"See," he said, showing her another display. "She was an Olympic class swimmer before that. So she should be, like, 90. And I'm pretty sure that Cliff Steel, Robotman, fought in the Korean War."

"That's . . . weird. And coming from me, that's saying something."

"I know, right?"

"So . . .," she began.

"I don't know," he interrupted.

"They're your parents," she asked, "how can you not know?"

"It's . . . complicated." He rubbed the back of his head and looked away. "Look, we should have talked about this before now. It's just kind of . . . different to be from this family. A lot of people wouldn't understand."

She looked at him sideways, puzzled. "What's to understand? You're a cheery, bouncy, happy-go-lucky clown. I figured you came from a circus. And speaking of circus tricks, what's with the never ending PA announcement?"

Changeling stopped. He slowly turned his head. "PA announcement?"

"Yeah. Since I got here. That low muttering. I can't find any speakers on the walls or anything, but it sounds like somebody left a mike on somewhere."

"Raven," he said, concerned. "What do you think you're hearing?"

"It's a guy, asking questions. I can't tell what he's asking, but he never stops. Don't you hear it?"

"Um, no."

"But that's impossible. You can hear it when my stomach growls from across the room."

"I know. Listen, I think I might know. Wait here. I'm going to borrow a pair of Rita's earrings."

"What . . ." she started to ask, but he had already left the room.

Raven waited, puzzled, until Garfield returned with a pair of dangly silver earrings. They appeared to be made of silver, cast into fretwork made of Celtic knots. At the bottom of each was a small amethyst, about the size of Raven's little fingernail.

"I hope they'll do. They were the simplest ones I could find. Rita generally doesn't go for 'plain.' Put 'em on and I'll tell you more about what's going on."

She looked at him a little strangely, but proceeded to put on the borrowed earrings.

"Hey," he asked, with sudden realization. "When did YOU pierce your ears?"

"Observant much?" she asked. "About two months ago. Starfire talked me into it. She said it would be easier to buy presents for me. I told her I didn't particularly _want_ any presents, but she went off into a long complicated commentary on gift-giving on her planet. I eventually agreed so that she would quit explaining snarfblatts to me. Do you know what a snarfblatt is? She kinda lost me."

Raven paused.

"The voice stopped."

"I thought so. I'm sorry – I should have planned ahead. The voice you were hearing was Steve. He says that's his 'carrier wave' or 'dial tone.' Any time he's awake his mind is unconsciously cataloging every mind within his range. You're not really a telepath, so I didn't think you'd be able to hear him."

"I _can_ be a telepath. I'm just a touch-telepath, and it takes a careful ritual for me to enter someone's mind. And a bit of me gets left there forever. That's why I don't do it often. Enough of that and there won't be enough left of me inside my own head."

"Right. I figure that's what's made you sensitive to Steve. As long as you wear Rita's earrings, he won't be able to accidentally slip into your head."

"Accidentally?"

"Yeah. He's got some control issues. When he's not wearing the helmet, his range is really, really short, and he has trouble focusing. But he can't wear the helmet all the time because it's habit forming."

"So your mother had the earrings made . . ."

"To prevent accidents."

". . . Is Rita a telepath?"

"Well, um, no," he said, sheepishly.

"Then shouldn't be slipping accidentally into her head, right?"

"Well, yeah," he said, quietly.

"So what aren't you telling me?"

He kept looking away. "It's kind of a family secret. I mean, you're _my _family and all, but . . . well, this is just really hard."

She arched an eyebrow, folded her arms and waited. Silently.

"Ok, listen. Back in the day, I mean _way_ back in the day, before the Doom Patrol, Steve saw Rita in the movies, and thought she was really pretty. He got . . . fascinated by her. Really fascinated. Scary fascinated. He was already a rich inventor, so he, well, he built the helmet to impress Rita."

"So he wasn't a telepath before?"

"Latent, they say. Using the helmet woke up his native talent, but it's _much _more powerful with the helmet."

"So, she fell in love with him because she was impressed with his mind control helmet? Or the greater body of his work?"

"That's what I'm getting at. She wasn't really impressed. I mean, you know how it goes. He was a good looking guy. He had plenty of money. Smart. Powerful. But she was at the absolute top of her game. She could have any man she wanted, and she didn't particularly want _him._"

It began to dawn on Raven exactly what Steve had one. "He didn't," she said, horrified.

"He had this mind-control helmet just _sitting there._"

Raven paled. "He did. He _made_ her fall in love with him?"

"He did. At least, that's the story I heard. I guess Steve would tell a different story, eh?"

"No doubt. And Rita stayed with him?"

"That's kinda brings me back to how old they all really are. Rita's _really_ old-fashioned. Which is probably why she's put us on opposite ends of the mansion. We've never talked about it or anything, but in _her_ day, a woman getting divorced was a sign of, like, failure. I think the only think she approves of divorce for is if your children are getting beaten. Daily."

"That's ridiculous. You've got to be mistaken."

"I may be wrong. But I think that Rita is an 'I've-made-my-bed-now-I'll-lie-in-it' sort of gal."

He kept looking at the floor.

"There's more, isn't there?"

He stood and glanced around the well-furnished room. Rising from the bed, he walked to the front window and looked out at the late afternoon traffic. The noise could only faintly be heard through the thick walls and double pane windows. He didn't look at her.

"There's a word that I don't use. I don't permit it to be used in my presence."

"Witch?" she colored briefly. "You know, you don't have to fight that battle for me. I'm perfectly capable of . . ."

"That's not about you," he interrupted her. "It's about me and what I'll tolerate. There's a certain level of respect my friends are owed. But that's not the word I'm talking about."

"Then what . . .," she began

"Freak," Changeling said, flatly.

"Oh."

"Raven, it's _really_ different here than in Titan Tower. All of the Titans came to our lives as heroes when we were fairly young. You and Starfire were born the way you are. Robin and I were little boys. Of all of us, only Cyborg was even a college student."

"So?"

Garfield went on. "Ever notice he's the only one of us who's real, you know, _bitter_ if the subject of origins? I mean, Robin is sure driven. I've never seen such a hate-boner for murders _anywhere_ else. But he doesn't have the edge of bitterness that Cy kinda has."

"I know what you mean. I think it's because his life was on a path, and he liked it. He liked the path he was on and he liked the direction it was going and where he thought he was going to end up. Then it was all taken from him," said Raven.

"Right," said Changeling. "Well, see, _everybody_ in the Doom Patrol had that happen. And a _lot_ later in life. Rita was a movie star. In fact, she wasn't just a movie star. She was _the_ leading lady in Hollywood. Then she had her accident on that location shoot, and became Elastigirl. But she didn't have any control at first, and when her power first turned on, she grew to fifty feet tall and caused hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage. And that was back when a hundred thousand dollars was a _lot_ of money. The unit director called her a 'freak' and the term just kind of stuck. No one would work with her. After all, at any moment, _any _movie could become _Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman._ She couldn't act and she broke a lot of buildings before she got control of her power. It left her completely isolated from the world she knew."

"I know about 'isolated,'" Raven said quietly.

Changeling continued. "Cliff is worse. He's just a brain in a box. It's a fancy, robotic box, but there's nothing left of the man but his brain. He's not only cut off from society, he's physically unable to interact with the world."

"Cyborg has said some things like that," Raven said.

"And then there's Larry; you know, Negative Man," Changeling went on. "He's just a normal-looking guy under all those bandages, but he has to wear them all the time because he's radioactive. If he doesn't wear them, everybody around him gets cancer! So no human physical contact for him, either. Years before I was born, they considered themselves to be freaks, and outcasts from humanity."

"Okay, that sucks, but how's that relevant to . . .," Raven began.

"I think that Rita stuck with Steve after finding out about the mind control because she didn't think anyone else would _have_ her, with her disability."

"But that's crazy. She's beautiful. She's smart. She's elegant. She's graceful. I'd think that _any_ man would want her. I mean, sure, she's powerful, but . . ."

"I think she's afraid her power would scare other men away, and is grateful that Steve's not afraid of her," Garfield replied.

"That's absurd," Raven said.

Garfield just looked at her, silently for a full minute.

"What?" she said.

"You really don't see how this moment is just glistening with cosmic irony, do you?" He grinned.

She thought for a moment, and maroon suffused her cheeks. She looked away and, with asperity, said, "My issues are entirely different."

"Uh huh. Come with me to Africa some time. I'll show you a river in Egypt."

"Funny."

"It's in my nature," he grinned toothily. Then his smile faded. "C'mon. Let's go upstairs."

Raven silently followed Garfield across the mansion and up to the second floor. There, on the front of the building was a small widow's walk. The traffic noise was a little louder out here, but he seemed to relax a little. She watched him.

"This is your spot on the rocks."

"Huh?"

"This is where you come to think. Or not-think. Like that spot on the rocks on Titan Island."

He rubbed his chin. "I guess so. I never thought about it."

"Turns out I've not thought about a lot of things," she replied.

"I've just been trying to give you some background to help you understand my family. You see, I wasn't supposed to be here," he said.

"I thought _I_ was the one who wasn't supposed to be born," she answered.

He shot her a glare. "No, I mean I wasn't part of the plan. I wasn't part of the _team_ to begin with. The Chief put the Doom Patrol together with a particular mix of powers and skills. I wasn't part of that."

"You've never told me that. All I know is that you joined the Patrol, and later Mento and Elastigirl adopted you," she smiled a tiny Raven-smile.

"Yeah. That's true enough. But it's not the _real_ story. I broke in here."

"You what?" she said, startled.

He slumped against the concrete rail and looked down at the floor, knitting his fingers together. "You know about Mama and Papa Logan. How I became . . . what I am, and then the accident that killed them, right?"

"Sure. No big secrets there," she answered.

"Well," he went on, "after that, my childhood wasn't a bed of roses. First, I wound up in the hands of a couple of thieves who basically beat me and made me use my powers to steal from them."

"You told me that, too."

"After that, I was given to a court-appointed guardian named Nicolas Gaultry. Gaultry embezzled _tons _of Mama and Papa Logan's money. And when I started getting old enough to notice, he started trying to have me killed. But I'm skipping ahead. The thing is: I was _green._ Green and I had fangs. Even if I could do a cool parlor trick . . ."

He turned into a newt, then turned back.

". . . I was still a . . . freak. Who's going to adopt a freak like that?"

"Don't talk about yourself like that," Raven said sharply.

He grinned quickly in response. "I'm just trying to help you see the headspace I was in at the time. But then I heard about the Doom Patrol. A bunch of . . . different . . . people, somewhat disfigured, like me, and trying to do good. I thought they would accept me and I would have a place to . . . you know . . . belong."

Raven nodded. "I could really see that. I know all about not belonging."

"I figured you did. You know, it's just as well that I was green. I was so desperate for a place to be that I would have easily been fodder for a street gang if they'd have had me. So anyway, I came here, broke in, and essentially refused to leave."

"You . . . what?" Raven raised an eyebrow.

"I came here to find a place for myself. I literally broke into the headquarters and refused to leave until they let me stay. I led them a merry chase all over the building, all the time yakking my head off, trying to convince them what a useful team member I would be."

"So what convinced them?"

"I think they just got tired of chasing me. The Chief agreed to put me up for the night and gave me a bedroom. Then I got to tag along on the next mission and proved I was worth feeding me."

"And then Rita and Mento adopted you."

Changeling shook his head. "Sort of. Rita was still under Steve's spell at the time. Rita wanted a 'family,' but with her screwed up genetics, they didn't dare have a baby of their own. So, they adopted me."

Raven just blinked. "That's awful. You're not a . . . a. . . consolation prize!"

"Well, no, but . . ."

Raven went on. "What you're saying is that your mother is a co-dependent doormat who married her stalker, your father is an unethical manipulator and addict, and your uncles are both isolated misanthropes."

He frowned. "NO! Well, not all of it. You're getting all the bad parts, and you're getting them all at once. Like, Rita's no doormat. And you'd never think that if you'd seen her a hundred feet tall, eyes wide, hair wild, holding Steve in her fist shouting, 'How about _now_, Steve? Want to guess what will _make_ me happy now?"

"Um . . ." said Raven.

"And then there's me. It was _Steve _who figured out that I could turn into animals with more mass than my own. When I first came here, I couldn't become anything more massive than me, and I was pretty small. _Steve_ gave me the t-rex that's won so many fights for us. And the whale. And the Kodiak bear that saved _your_ life. All that comes from Steve. He also taught me discipline."

"Discipline?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said, staring out at the city. "When I was kid, I _really _lacked focus."

"When you were a kid," she blinked.

"Larry," he continued, "taught me patience."

"Patience . . ." she repeated.

"Uh huh," he said. "You should have seen me as a kid. I was all over the place. All about the instant gratification."

"Really."

There was a long pause. Very long. Raven just leaned up against the concrete railing of the little balcony and waited. Eventually she broke the silence.

"There's a name you haven't mentioned."

"I know," he replied. "I really hate talking about this."

"Garfield," she said, "I know this is your home, and I'm trying not to judge. I mean, look at _my_ background."

"Don't ask about the Chief. You'll notice I don't mention him in front of the rest of the team." He swallowed.

"Why not?"

"He's not here anymore. Mento sometimes consults with him when absolutely necessary. But he doesn't live here, and no one else on the team talks to him. If he actually needs to come here and use some of the lab facilities, Mento has to make sure that Cliff isn't here."

"Why? What on earth happened?"

"We found out . . . we found out . . . Dr. Calder _made_ the Doom Patrol. He didn't just gather together a ground of talented misfits and help them to work together to help people."

"Then what . . .?"

"He saw a need for a team with _specific_ skills, talents, and to some extent, powers. So he went out and _made_ one," Garfield suddenly snarled and slammed his fist down onto the railing.

"You mean . . .?"

He spun his head to glare at Raven. "You're going to make me spell it out, aren't you? Dr. Calder, my "grandfather figure," the head of my _family_ deliberately _engineered the 'accidents'_ that made the Doom Patrol what they are. He stole their lives, broke their families, and even deformed some of them. Because he saw a fucking _need._"

"Woah," said Raven, eyes widening.

"Cliff's racing accident, Rita's chemical mutagen exposure, and even Steve's addiction were _all_ deliberately planned and executed so that the Chief could have a superhero team he could easily control."

She blinked. "I, um, don't know what to say."

He went on. "Except me, of course. I'm different even here. I wasn't part of Dr. Caulder's grand plan. He managed to work me in, though," Garfield said with a bitter edge to his voice. "It was one of the things that made it easier for me to leave."

Raven paused for a moment, a little overwhelmed.

"But still," she thought, "he's in a sharing mood. Maybe . . ."

She spoke, softly. "Garfield? You never did tell me just why you left. I know your place here was _very _important to you. What could cause you to just up and leave, with no idea where you were going or what you were going to do?"

"It was that I couldn't work for Mento, Steve, any more, because his priorities are fucked."

"How so?"

"It was a real come-to-Jesus moment for me. We'd been fighting the Brotherhood of Evil, of course, and the Brain had set up some sort of quantum-black-hole-phase-particle-kill-lots-of-people-thingie. The details aren't important. But the Team was in danger, and I had to choose to either destroy the device, or save the Team. I chose to save the Team. I figured that with the Team, we'd find a way to destroy the device. Have our cake and eat it too. And I was RIGHT God-dammit!"

"And Mento didn't agree?"

"No." He pursed his lips. "He was adamant that I'd failed in my duty by not letting them all _die._ And he would _not_ stop browbeating me about it. So ultimately, I walked away. Things are better between us now, but he still thinks I'm irresponsible."

"Imagine that," Raven said flatly.

"And that's pretty much the story, and all the baggage you'll have to sort through if you hang out here any length of time." He looked at the system clock on his comm. "Almost time for dinner. We should get ready."

"Ok," she said. She walked beside him back to her room. She remained lost in thought until he said, "I have to go to my room to change. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Right."

Raven considered her wardrobe options. She hadn't come with a large palette of options. When she was packing she hadn't know she was walking into a war. She looked at her LBD on its hangar. Regretfully, she decided against it. It was the social equivalent of a Molotov cocktail. She couldn't wear any underwear with it, and it stopped about eight inches below the curve of her ass. She'd brought it in case Garfield wanted to take her someplace romantic. All that left her was her fighting leotard. She sighed.

Raven broke out her makeup kit and went to work. According to Jane, the particular look she was putting on was her "professional" look. While attractive, it wasn't 'come hither,' and shouldn't set of Rita's "tramp alarm." She did, however, put her awkward-looking elf boots in the closet and replaced them with the mid-calf black boots she'd brought for the LBD. They'd kick her legs up a notch but not look nearly as "trampy" as the LBD. She didn't want war with Garfield's mom. But sometimes a woman has to take a stand.


	45. Dinner With the 'Rents -or Rita Unbound!

Update: 12/14/2012

Opps. Forgot a footnote.

Wajinga watu – I'm glad I'm not the only adult involved here. Sometimes I feel really weird writing this mature theme stuff based on a kid cartoon. Just a technical point. That was actually "Exposition Vomit," not "explaination vomit." Just a little writer-geek nit-picking there. No offense taken. Thanks for reading.

Darkness on the Rise – Glad to hear from you. New material as fast as I can manage it.

Shadico – Go-go boots and attitude. They're pretty dark, but like Gar said, Raven got all of the worst of it in 300 words or less. And besides. They gave him a place. It may have sucked, but when you're coming from having no place at all, you're grateful. Rae's got limitations in badassery, though. I'm pretty sure she could take Rita in a fight. But Rita's got decades of "raving bitch" and "foetid harpy" experience on Rae. If they decide they don't like each other, Gar's not going to have much fun.

Shugokage – Yeah. I think it's a law somewhere that all metahuman families must suck.

Johnxgambit – I'm not sure the fabric of the universe could take it.

Gyhy – Thanks. Really? That dark? Well, hard to avoid that in Midway City. Grim place. I hope you like Dinner With Rita And Steve. I got into a little cuteness, but Rita had other things on her mind. Yeah – they met the Titans on business in "Homecoming," but it was very much a working weekend. No socializing.

TW – Yeah, the Doom Patrol are pretty much the Postal Children for issues. They've got more issues than Batman.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast – Yeah. But they're family. What are you gonna do?

"I' . – Well, sorta. I think he was around nine, at least in this continuity. In the comics he looks like he's about 14 – 15, and that's when he joined the Titans. So I retconned him a little younger to fit the continuity better.

Katwizzle – Wait no longer.

Hunterss of the Shadows – Yeah, and I didn't even write any of it. It's all classic Doom Patrol. I still can't believe that Cliff didn't _kill _the Chief. He _hates _being Robotman.

Nos482reborn – He does like strong women. I think he like hunting for the soft squishy center.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Let's see. It's pretty late, so you're getting it short and sweet this time. Thanks for sticking with me over the hiatus. I'm going to try not to go that long in the future. I'd planned for Dinner with the 'Rents to be a little lighter, but Rita was quite frustrated. She wanted to know more about the woman she found in her son's bed, and after poking around the hero-sphere, she discovered that nobody knows _anything_ about Raven. She was able to get a _very _skimpy dossier from the Justice League, most of which was redacted, but included Zatanna's notes about "sensing evil." So while _I_ had planned to do cutesy "Beast Boy as a child" stories, well, you'll see. I remember dinners like this with my girlfriend's parents back in the day. Come to think of it, mine generally went about like this.

Looking ahead, in the next Chapter, we'll see how Raven deals with her nightmares in Midway City, and the trip back to Titan Tower. After that, I'm thinking maybe "The Return of the Ex." Or maybe not. Only the Shadow Knows.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

The formal dining room in the Doom Patrol headquarters was a large but not enormous room. The table was clearly one that had been brought in to seat four. A much larger refectory-style table had been moved over next to the wall and a dozen chairs lined the walls. Normally this room and table could seat parties of sixteen. The floor was covered with several very large Persian rugs and the room was lit by electric sconces holding white, flame-shaped bulbs. The walls held a number of oil paintings, including what Raven suspected was an original Matisse. The walls were decorated with both chair-rail moldings and crown moldings. All of the furniture was made of some dark hardwood and appeared to be handmade by master craftsmen. The entire room screamed class, money, power, and influence. It was a room designed to intimidate.

As she walked into the dining room, Raven thought to herself, "I begin to understand the giant suitcases that always travel with Starfire. It would have been nice to be able to meet Rita on a level playing field."

The older woman entered the room wearing a strapless tea length dress that broke mid-calf. It was a sort of burnt red, or oxblood color. It was nipped in tightly at Rita's trim waist with a matching fabric belt that had just a few rhinestones in it. Just enough to flash and draw the eye to her hourglass figure. On her feet were matching strappy sandals. Her hair was still pulled back by a hairband, but she'd changed it to a black one with just a few small rhinestones. She looked beautiful, classy, and elegant. And prepared to utterly dominate any room she was in.

"Yep," thought Raven. "I definitely need to carry more clothes to social occasions. I'm going to have to try to match that with a pair of go-go boots and attitude. Then again, I have the ultimate weapon: youth. I'm younger than she is, and younger women _always_ compete well with older women. After all – the ol' biddy's almost a hundred."

Raven snorted quietly in spite of herself. As pep-talks go, it wasn't the best her inner monologue had ever done. The idea of applying concept of "biddy" to Rita Farr was absurd at best. Even when Rita actually _became_ an "ol' biddy," she wouldn't be an "ol' biddy."

"Something funny, dear?" asked Rita.

"No," replied, Raven, "Not really."

There was movement behind Rita, and a shadow fell across the room, followed by a man.

"Raven," said Rita, "I present my husband, Steve Dayton, Mento."

"Hello," he said. "I believe we met once before – you were with Garfield when we were dealing with the Brotherhood of Evil out in California."

Steve Dayton was a tall man, much taller than Raven. Like Rita, he appeared to be in his early to mid-forties. He wore his hair parted in the middle and cropped short. His hair was red, except where it was graying at the temples. He was muscular, without being particularly heavy-set, and wore a fitted, custom-made suit in dark grey. On the lapel was a small lightning bolt pin.

Raven smiled and extended her hand, careful to make and maintain eye-contact. "It was a busy couple of days."

"Indeed it was. Your help was invaluable. You, Garfield, and the rest of your friends really saved the day."

"Thank you," she said. "I'm just glad I was able to help."

"Champagne?" he offered. "We're celebrating."

She accepted the flute. "What's the occasion?"

"You are, my dear," said Rita.

Raven sipped her drink. This was a surprise.

"Me?"

"Well," said Dayton, "I'm sure you noticed: Garfield's got . . . challenges. There have been other girls, but you're the first one to . . . stick."

"Speaking of Garfield," Raven said, "Where is he? I thought he'd be here by now."

"Oh," replied Dayton. "He ran out to buy a suit. When he found out we were dressing for dinner, he panicked and bolted."

"Great," Raven though. "I'm standing here in go-go boots and my fighting kit, and he's out upping his game. I'd rather have him here in a flight suit than leaving me to deal with his parents alone."

"So, Raven," said Rita, "Tell us about yourself."

"Ah," Raven thought. "Directly for the throat."

Which wasn't really fair. It was a reasonable question. Any parent would ask it when meeting a child's sweetie for the first time. And Raven had given it some thought.

"Not much to tell, really. Shortly after I was born, I was given into the care of a monastic order, the Order of Azarath. I lived in the monastery for the first fifteen years of my life. After that, I joined the Titans."

Steve frowned. "I wasn't aware that there were any orders still taking infant oblates these days. In fact, now that I think about it, the Tenth Synod, in 565 pretty much ended the process."

"Right," said Raven. "In Toledo, Spain."

"Oh, so you're a scholar?"

Raven replied, "I don't know if I can claim that. But I like to read. The Order of Azarath is not Catholic."

"Oh," replied Steve. "I don't know anything about Oblation and Buddhist orders."

Raven was tempted to just let that lie there. But she couldn't. It would be dishonest.

"Actually, the Order of Azarath isn't Buddhist, either. They're an independent sect. The central core of their, well, it's less of a 'faith' per se, and more of a 'way of life' is pacifism.

Without thinking, she continued, "They withdrew from Earth many, many years ago."

"Withdrew?" said Dayton. "How do you withdraw from Earth?"

Raven relaxed and launched into a technical discussion of inter-dimensional travel, and relative inter-dimensional geography. Talking about _that _was _way _easier than talking about _herself_.

"Azarath, for example," she said, "while it's infinite on the _inside,_ just like this one, only has a few contact points with other dimensions. So it's harder to find. That is, it's 'small.'"

"So what you're saying," said Rita, "is that not only are you not from this planet, but you're not from this dimension?"

Raven swallowed. Rita was getting uncomfortably close to some things that Raven did _not _want to discuss. She quickly moved the conversation to generalities about raising children in common in crèche-style communities like those on Earth and their similarities to day care. That lasted about five minutes before Rita headed her off, bringing the conversation back to Raven. "So – you don't have a traditional education, then?"

"Um, no," said Raven, distracted. "Well, it depends on what you mean by traditional," she said, awkwardly. "I, ah, read for my trainers and had to defend my positions. It's a _really _old tradition in Western Europe, out of Oxford and the Sorbonne, but my trainers mostly came from Eastern traditions . . ." her voice trailed off.

"So, no high school diploma, eh?" said Steve.

"Well, um, no," Raven replied.

"G.E.D?" he asked.

"No," she answered quietly.

"I tried to homeschool Garfield, but he was never really too interested. And trying to _make_ him do something is like trying to push water uphill." The scientist sighed.

"He's a little shallow on book-learning," Raven slowly agreed, "But he's very wise."

Both of the older people turned to stare at her.

"Well, really, he is," she insisted. "He has all the hard questions figured out, and he's more comfortable in his own skin than anybody I know."

"Garfield has many fine qualities," Rita said, "But I never thought I'd hear a woman call him 'wise.'"

The door to the room opened, and Garfield stepped into the room. No suit, but a pair of khaki's, a grey shirt, and dark green tie.

"I'll never set foot in this house again without a suit and formalwear," he said, grinning.

"Let's have a seat," suggested Rita.

Rita had set the table with all of the food on warmers. It was to be self-serve.

"I've got to admit," Raven said, "I'm a little surprised. You've got all this space and . . . "

"No servants?" Steve finished for her.

"Um, yeah. It seems like a lot to maintain, just for the two of you."

"Remember," said Rita, there _are_ four of us. But this is mostly because I'm trying to impress and intimidate you. Most of the time most of the house is closed up, and we do take-out or microwave something from the freezer."

"Titan Tower," responded Raven, "Is usually pizza or take-out. Cyborg likes to cook some, so it's mostly him and Starfire."

The two young people winced and shuddered.

"So, not a cook then, the Princess?"

"Tamaranian food," said Raven, "has to be tasted to be fully appreciated."

The two couples ate.

"This is very good, Mom," said Changeling. "I wish you'd cooked more when I lived here."

"Me, too," she said. "But we didn't have the luxury. Complain to the Brotherhood of Evil about that."

"I wasn't complaining," he said quickly. "Just. . . lamenting."

Talk wandered over the history of the Doom Patrol, and in the process turned to Garfield's childhood and youth. Rita made much of how cute Garfield was in his various pre-adolescent animal forms.

"Mom, please!" he said, face turning khaki.

Steve laughed. "And then there was the 'awkward period.'"

Changeling put his head down on the table.

"Most young men in the adolescents experience a change in their center of gravity. They gets stronger, faster, and their balance changes. It's awkward enough for any boy. But when the boy turns into a cheetah – well, you should have seen him face-planting on doorframes at 40 mph.

"So," said Rita, jerking the conversation back to Raven yet again, "Let's talk about the elephant in the room. Your skin tone – it's . . . unusual. Why the choice?"

Raven choked lightly on her iced tea.

"Um. It's not really a choice. My skin and hair have always been this color."

"You didn't dye your hair to match your eyes?"

"No," she said, quietly. "I don't dye my hair. It is what it is."

"But surely that's not a color found in nature."

Garfield spoke. "It's natural on Raven, and I like it."

"Did your mother have grey skin?" Rita pressed.

"No," said Raven. "Mother was Caucasian, and before you ask, a brunette."

"Then what kind of person was your father?"

"That's enough, Rita," said Changeling, "Raven doesn't like to talk about her father."

"Why not, dear? Broken home?"

"Something like that," she said.

"And abusive?"

"Rita . . ." said Garfield.

"Emotional or physical?"

"Ah -" said Raven.

"Rita . . ." Garfield said again, his voice rising.

"My father," said Raven in a near shout, "is Trigon the Terrible, Lord Skath, Ddrez, Master of Pain, Paragon of Fear, and the Thane of Perdition."

The table fell silent until Steve spoke. "I've heard of Trigon. You're not exaggerating are you?"

He slid his chair away from her. "You're not human."

"My mother, Arella, was a human from Earth," replied Raven.

"But – you're half demon," Rita said.

Raven looked down at the table.

"Yes," she said in a whisper.

She stared, hard. "What do you want with my son?"

She didn't move. "I love him."

The silence in the room was deafening.

"I think that's about enough of that," said Garfield.

_"That's mine. You do not mess with what's mine."__**[1]**_

Mento's head swiveled around.

"Don't take that tone with your mother," Steve broke in.

_"Hey, THAT is MINE. You will speak with respect, or you'll not speak in her presence."_

"Raven is brave and good, and in her own way even kind and gentle. If you can't see that, you don't need to be looking."

_"Oh, I'll say what I want. And I'll do it wherever and whenever I want, in any tone of voice that I want."_

Raven's eyes widened as her head whipped back and forth between the two men. Mento and Changeling were both leaning forward across the table, eyes locked on each other. Faces drawn, eyes tight, they glared. There was a quiet scratching sound, like a cat on canvas as the Changeling's claws popped out on the white linen table cloth. Changeling placed his hands firmly on the table and slid his feet back beneath his chair, under his center of mass. Mento's hands clenched and his knuckles ground into the tabletop.

"Rita's my wife, and under my roof, she'll look where she pleases and as she sees fit."

_"Do you really think you're up to this, puppy? _

"Raven isn't 'half' anything. She's a person, actual and whole, and is exactly the way she's supposed to be."

_"Puppy? Puppy? Old man, my milk teeth were gone a long time ago. Be careful. My fangs have grown in."_

Rita had been watching the exchange with amusement, when suddenly, without warning, the room became _dangerous._ Like the silence in the eye of a hurricane, just before the wind returns. That deep, low pressure pulse.

A small frown line appeared between Rita's eyebrows. She reached out and laid two fingers on the back of Steve's to press down gently.

"Raven," said Rita, not taking her eyes off of Steve, "I'm sorry. In trying to be frank and honest, I've also been overly blunt. I didn't mean to be rude."

Raven stared at Rita, then saw the older woman's eyes flicker from Raven to Changeling and back. Raven blinked, and then put one foot gently on top of Garfield's and pressed down. Her eyes bored into the side of the Changeling's face.

"That's all right Rita. No harm. No foul."

The pressure flowed out of the room like water from a leaky bucket. Steve leaned back and his hand flattened out on the tabletop. Garfield's jaw receded to its normal position as he relaxed back into his chair. His claws vanished.

"So," said Rita, "as if nothing had happened, "Who's for coffee and dessert? I made tiramisu from scratch."

Garfield looked at his mother. "I'm up for it."

Raven said, "From scratch? Sweets aren't generally my thing, but I'd like to try a small portion."

The older woman rose and began to gather the dinner plates.

"Raven," she said, "Could you give me a hand for a minute?"

The dark sorceress rose, slightly confused, and Changeling spoke.

"I'll help."

"No," said Rita, "We've got it."

At the same time, Steve put his hand on Garfield's shoulder, and pressed down. Curious, Garfield stayed in his seat. When the women had withdrawn to the kitchen, Steve spoke softly.

"They need to confer. This is 'girl talk' time. You'd just be in the way in there."

"Ah," said Changeling.

Steve rose. "Walk with me."

The two men walked across the room to the French doors that led out to the balcony overlooking the garden. The smell of old cigar smoke was evident. Changeling looked about.

"Grow lights?" he said, noting the presence of the assorted incandescent fixtures around the garden.

Mento wrinkled his nose. "Yes. When the skyscrapers went in on both sides, we only got direct sunlight for an hour a day, at noon. But Rita wanted her roses."

He reached into his pocket. "I'm going to give you three pieces of unsolicited advice."

Changeling looked at him sideways. "Ok."

Mento withdrew a leather case with two cigars from his coat. He handed one to Changeling, who glanced at the wrapper. "Alec Bradley, Prensado."

The older man reached into his pocket and drew a cigar cutter from his pocket.

"First, use a good, solid, double guillotine cutter. While there are merits to v-cutters and punch cutters, they're not for casual smokers. They take practice. Cigar scissors are even worse. And if you have the skill to break or cut the cap with your fingernails, you're smoking too many cigars and need to cut back."

Changeling blinked, looking at Mento quizzically.

"Second, look closely at the cigar. Note where the cap comes above the shoulder. Cut precisely and forcefully, here, above the shoulder, leaving a portion of the cap to hold the wrapper in place. Nothing worse than a cigar that disintegrates before you're halfway through the smoke."

He handed Changeling the cutter. Mimicking Mento's action, he carefully trimmed the head end of his cigar.

"Finally," he struck a match with a hissing sound, "use only wooden matches with quality cigars. It may take as much as three matches to get a good burn going, but you'll find it's worth it. Many smokers advocate butane torch lighters these days, but I find the slow burn of a match and the scent of a match to be a critical part of the ritual. Nothing like a carefully prepare light and a smoke."

Mento drew on the cigar and exhaled with a sigh. Changeling cautiously drew on the cigar and exhaled with a small cough. The odor and flavor of the tobacco smoke completely overwhelmed his sense of smell and taste. His eyes watered.

"Sorry," said the older man, "They were the mildest ones I had."

"So . . . what's with all the cigar advice," Garfield asked. "You know I don't normally smoke anything at all. The enhanced senses, you know."

"I figured you didn't have any firm opinions already, and you would listen to me about them, unlike everything else."

Changeling laughed. "Guess so."

He drew on the cigar and coughed gently again.

"So, if you know so much, what are they talking about in there that I'd be in the way?"

"Us, of course," replied Mento. "Or men in general."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen . . .

Rita busied herself taking dessert plates down out of the kitchen cabinet and carefully portioning out the tiramisu while Raven scraped plates and stacked the dirty china with exquisite care.

As Rita was measuring out the coffee, Raven said, "I'm impressed. I would have thought you'd have to expand your size to hold a grown man down like that. And Steve's not small."

Rita looked over at Raven and frowned. "Did you think I was holding his hand down on the table?"

Raven nodded.

Rita sighed. "I forget how young you are. By the time it got that point, neither of them were hearing us. By touching Steve, I reminded him that I was still here, and that I was ok. That's all. Steve's a _lot_ stronger than I am. Most of men are. To physically restrain him, I'd need to be about seven feet tall and would weigh in at about four hundred pounds."

"So, what was that about, anyway? I mean, I was a little upset, but it wasn't worth all the . . . drama."

"Young lady, that had almost nothing to do with you _or_ me."

"What?"

"Honey, that was all about who was in charge. We were just the trigger." Rita replied.

"I'm sorry about that. I don't need Garfield fighting my battles for me. I've told him not to."

"Don't bother. It's not about you, it's about what's his," the older woman replied.

"I'm nobody's property," Raven flared.

The corner of Rita's mouth lifted in a tiny half-smile.

"Oh really? How many other men's beds are you sleeping in this week?"

Raven's eyebrows went up; her eyes widened flashing red. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's doesn't _mean_ anything, dear. It's a question. I certainly don't need the answer. But you do. If you're sleeping with other men, you're not 'his.' If you aren't, you are 'his.' It's that simple."

"I'm. Nobody's. 'Thing.' Not even Garfield's. " Raven's eyes narrowed.

Rita sighed and rubbed her eyes, turning to finish setting up the coffee. "Being 'his' doesn't make you a 'thing," and it certainly doesn't imply that he thinks you are an object or a toy. Try this. Image a man's social sphere to be land. He's the center of the land and it's laid out in lots, and clearly marked. Each lot is a part of his 'territory,' and he's going to defend it. He can't not do so. It's in his bones."

Raven deflated – a little. "And I'm one of the 'lots?'" Raven replied, skeptically.

"Not really," said Rita, checking her reflection in the steel hood over the stove. "You're _in_ the lot that's labeled 'girlfriend/wife/mate,' or whatever his worldview is. When I leaned on you, I trespassed on his territory. Why do you think there's an expression 'you just stepped over a line?' When he pushed back at me, _he_ stepped over _Steve's_ line. That's all."

Raven gathered the dessert spoons and fresh napkins. "Just occupying a space in a lot makes us sound imminently replaceable."

Rita smiled a small, sad smile. "We are, dear. That's why you have to keep working to make sure _you're_ the girl he wants in that spot. Of course, that spot has to be where you want to be. If it's not, things are a lot simpler. But, to my mind, less fun and more lonely."

"Speaking of lonely, you didn't really need any help with this. Why am I in here?"

"We weren't just the trigger for the drama. We were also the fuel. That's why we're in here."

"What do you mean?" asked Raven.

"Neither of them can back down while we're watching. If we leave them alone, they'll work it out. But neither of them can be seen to be the loser if we're there."

Back on the porch, Steve drew deeply on his cigar.

"So, you were really ready to throw down with me, under my own roof and me decades your senior."

The Changeling puffed on his own cigar. "Yup. I thought that was obvious."

Steve glanced over at his son. "It was. Why didn't you?"

"Raven stepped on my foot."

"Ah, the 'Please don't get blood on the carpet' gambit.' So, why'd you do that?"

Changeling replied, "I learned by example. Nobody talks to Rita like that in your presence. So nobody's gonna talk to Raven like that in _my_ presence. Not even Rita."

Steve chuckled. "So, this is all _my_ fault."

"Yup," said the Changeling, and puffed again, grinning. "So, we gonna go again?"

"That will probably depend on the women. I presume you're not going to bend the knee just because I'm older, your dad, or that you're under my roof?"

"Not when Raven's involved," the younger man replied, still smoking.

"Didn't think so. Hopefully they'll behave."

In the dining room, Rita and Raven set out the dessert plates.

". . . so I hope they behave," Rita finished.

"I still can believe you put that much energy into . . . managing macho bullshit."

"Raven, it's not bullshit to them. It's how they define their place in the world. And they almost always work it out for themselves. It only got out of hand because we were there."

"Wait, what?"

Rita raised her voice slightly, "Steve! Put out that nasty stogie, and come in. The coffee's almost done."

She turned to Raven. "As long as we were in the room, neither one could back down. Here's your last lesson for the night: neither of them could back down in front of us. It would have made him look weak. That's why we had to leave the room. Then they could sort it out quietly."

"They're idiots."

"No dear, they're men. Their priorities aren't worse than ours. Just very, very different. It took me longer than I care to admit to figure that out. Don't have to have it beaten into you; learn from my mistakes."

Steve took out his cigar cutter and clipped off the coal from the end of his cigar, then handed the cutter to Garfield.

"One more piece of advice?" he said to his son.

Changeling looked at him warily.

Steve smiled. "Finish a cut cigar after no more than two days. After that the wrapper dries out and it loses all flavor."

Garfield smiled, cut his own coal off, and pocketed the cigar. The two men opened the French door and entered. Rita smiled.

The two couples ate the dessert and coffee until they reached the brandy stage.

Then Rita spoke. "Raven, I'm sorry, but I'm going to put you on the spot again. Given your unusual . . . heritage, have you given any thought to what that's going to mean in terms of my grandchildren?"

Garfield's eyes bugged out and he gag-swallowed to avoid a spit-take, not wanting to spray coffee all over Raven and the linen tablecloth.

"Mother! It's a little early for talk like that."

Raven sighed. "Actually, I have thought about it, at least in theory. I'm sure most women do, when they're in love."

Raven smiled a sad little smile. "I can't have children."

She went on to explain the psychic and spiritual bond she had with Trigon, and the risks involved in having children that would probably inherit at least part of that bond.

"So, even if I can, which is unlikely as a hybrid human-demon, I can't. It wouldn't be right."

Rita raise her eyebrows way up, and glanced at her son.

"Have you told her about the video games?"

"No. Not yet." He colored khaki.

"What?" asked Raven. "He plays them all the time. So?"

"So," said Rita, peering intently at Garfield. "I know you think I'm a nosy bitch, Raven, but nobody knows anything about you, and Garfield has been utterly unhelpful. If I was going to find out what I wanted to know about you, I had to squeeze it out of you. But that's not actually normal for me. That's going to have to be between you and him. More coffee?"

After a few more minutes, Rita got up to clean the kitchen, and Raven volunteered to help. Changeling and Mento headed back out to the porch to finish their cigars. A little while after that, the older couple announced that it was time to call it a night.

Changeling walked Raven back to her room.

"That was pretty awful," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It was," replied Raven. "But I don't really blame her. She cares about you, and there no way to find out anything about me other than to ask."

"Well," he said, "I wouldn't have brought you here if I thought she would do that."

The reached the door.

"Well," she said, "I guess this is good night."

"I guess so," he answered, and put his arms around her neck.

She smiled up at him and put her hands around her waist.

"Are we on video?" she asked.

"No idea," he said.

"Don't care." She pulled at him and he pressed his lips to hers for a full minute.

"Good night," he said, again.

Shutting the door, Raven walked into her room and hung up her cloak. She slowed pulled off her leotard and scanty blue lace bra and pulled on a T shirt to sleep in. She turned off the overhead light. She sat on the big four-poster bed, dangling her feet for a few moments. Then curled up under the covers and turned out the light.

The room was dark and silent.

Raven breathed in and out.

The room was dark and silent, the beam of light under the door shining like a dagger in moonlight. The room was dark and silent. Raven listened to the muffled traffic noise as it passed the front of the mansion. Even at this hour, Midway City never really went completely to bed. The room was dark and silent.

The room was dark and silent.

Raven breathed in and out.

The room was dark and silent.

Raven breathed in and out.

She squirmed under the covers.

Turning on the light, Raven muttered, "Trigon take her," and stalked to the chest of drawers where she'd stored her sleepwear. Seating herself at the vanity, she broke out her "girly tool kit," and made up her large eyes, going for "sultry," this time. She took a tiny dab of perfume and put it behind each ear and on each wrist and checked her look in the full-length mirror.

Her "nightgown" was Chinese silk. It had narrow straps over her shoulders and was the color of mother of pearl. It only came part-way down her chest, not exposing much cleavage at all, and it came to just below her knees like a sheath-dress. There was just a little lace at her chest, and at the brief slits on either side that made it easier for her to walk. She'd considered getting some lingere that was a little more daring, but Garfield really seemed to like her with her dials set to "sexy," not "slutty." Raven took a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest and threw her head back. There was an eldritch chime and her eyes glowed white with power. Darkness swirled, and and the Void That Stands Between took her once again.

* * *

[1] This dialogue is written in 'Guy.' The text in the normal font is what is said out loud, and what Rita and Raven _hear_. The dialogue in italics is what Mento and Changeling communicate to each other non-verbally, by stand, facial expression, and tone of voice.


	46. Hide and Seek

Dragonkyng – Glad to hear that you liked it. Let me know when your story goes online and I'll give it a read. But you'll need a thick skin. The last person who asked me to do that quit talking to me after they got my first review. And I thought I was being helpful.

Wajinga watu – Well, that's what talking to a mature, goal-oriented woman will do for you.

Irishfan62 – Glad you liked it. I was afraid I was getting over the top. And the question of video games is answered in this chapter. Read on.

LoveyMagicDarkStrength – Glad you like it. Raven's not in a position to stand up for herself in this situation because she's smart enough not to pick a fight with her potential husband's mom. Especially since, as things stand, it looks like Rita might live forever. And I'm writing as fast as I can.

Lord Vukodlak – Yeah. At least, that's MY interpretation. Of course, that would make Garfield around fifty, since he started hanging with the Doom patrol in the 70's. But we're just going to ignore that. I've only got so many lampshades I can hang, and so many mirrors I can wave. As to Garfield's fertility. Well, he knows. I probably should have mentioned it in the story text, but I figured that having a Mento for a Dad meant that he would check that sort of things as soon as Garfield started noticing girls. I figure with self-adapting DNA, not only can Garfield have kids, he can have them with anyone who's fertile. In fact, given that Starfire and Robin are different species, they may end up coming to Garfield as a genetic donor. Now _that_ might make an interesting chapter. But that's why Garfield is so careful about only initiating sex with women who aren't fertile at the moment.

Yeah – it's a tiresome cliché.

And of _course _Rita's going to know. Read on.

Shadico – Epic? Thanks. You're really generous. I never would have thought of Dinner with the 'Rents as "epic." You know, I wish I'd thought of that. A SIM-Raven/Changeling family would have been funny.

Shugokage – I'm glad you liked it. I'm really surprised at the response. I thought you guys would find it boring.

TW – What? MY in-laws? They don't read fanfic.

* * *

Okay, this one is just for the fun of it. In the next installment, well head back to Titan Tower and get to work on the next critical character development point. But I was having too much fun with Rita and Steve to just bail on them.

* * *

There was an eerie musical chime in Garfield's childhood room. On the floor, in the deep darkness illuminated only by the flickering light at the doorsill, and tiny black marble appeared, expanding as though it had come from an unimaginable distance at incredible speed. Matte black, it expanded into a hemisphere and then silently shattered, vanishing in a swirl of eldritch power. Raven stood in the center of the room, hip cocked, on knee gently bent to pull the mother-of-pearl silk gown tightly against her hip and thigh. Her forearms were crossed demurely in front of her breasts and her chin was lowered. She looked upward through her lashes at the bed.

"Well crap," the thought, and looked around the room. It was empty. "That," she continued, "was an utter waste of a dramatic, sexy entrance. He's probably in the bathroom."

The young woman walked silently over to the bunk beds on bare feet and sat down on the bed. She looked around the room in the dim light. From what she could see, Changeling had been right. This was the bedroom of a 12 to 14 year old boy. The shelves were covered with plastic toys from about a decade ago. Model aircraft and spacecraft hung from the ceiling. The desk was made of cheap sheet metal and had a Formica top. Raven walked over to the desk and ran her fingers over the surface. She smiled gently. Rita and Steve had clearly gotten it with being destroyed in mind, and hadn't been too far wrong. Her touch revealed gouges, burns, and chemical stains. There was dried model glue, small splatters of paint, and the Formica had developed bubbles here and there. The desk chair was a "bowl" style chair, like on the bridge of the old _Enterprise,_ from the TV show. There was a matching one next to the desk, for visitors.

Raven frowned at the door, which continued to refuse to produce Garfield. She rose and crossed the room to the shelves. She's expected this: He-man, Skeltor, Micro-Machines (a whole fleet of them), Buzz-Lightyear, a classic Super-Soaker, and a Duncan butterfly Yo-Yo. She wondered if he could use it. He was so spastic sometimes.

"What in Azar's name is a 'Whistle Vortex.' It looks like a football with a dark up its butt."

She picked up the Nerf Gun.

-clack- -clack - -clack-

"Hey," she thought, "Still works!"

Game Boy, Game Boy Color.

"Apparently, the video games started early."

Stretch Armstrong, Super Nintendo, and a kick-tail skateboard. The display came to an end. Raven looked over at the stubborn door again.

"I hope he's okay."

The toy collection, she'd expected. The bookshelf – that was different. She walked over to look at the spines.

_The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings._ Okay, the first one she kind of expected, and the second one she could see. But then there was _The Simarillion. _That one was rough going. And the spine was cracked in three or four places. He may have not finished it, but he'd sure carried it around a lot. A Heinlein section. _Have Spacesuit – Will Travel, The Rolling Stones, Farmer in the Sky. _Again, expected. But then there was _Stranger in a Strange Land, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, _and _Job. Brave New World. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Dune. Neuromancer. I, Robot _and a host of other classic Asimov and Gibson.

"Huh. Here I thought he could barely read. Some of those are pretty heavy going."

She crossed back to the bed and sat back down on it, her small feet dangling slightly above the floor.

Meanwhile . . .

The emerald bee zipped through the halls of the Doom Patrol headquarters like a smart missile. Intent on its goal, the insect whipped through motion detectors, electric-eye beams, and over pressure plates demonstrating clear mastery of its environment. With the utter confidence of a native in motion, the small insect flickered through the expensive, intense, and carefully thought-out security system of Doom Patrol headquarters as though it were casually flying through a flower garden. The bee casually settled to the floor next to Raven's door, morphed, and became a spider. The green arachnid easily crawled under the door, morphed again, and the Changeling stood in Raven's room.

"Raven? Hello? I didn't knock because I didn't want to set off any of the sensors in the hall. Where are you?"

No answer.

"Huh," he thought. "Must be in the bathroom."

Then he noticed Raven's panties on the floor next to her sleep shirt.

"Now _that's_ odd," he mused. "She _hates_ clutter. She'd never leave her clothes out unless she was in a big hurry."

He smiled, inhaling. "Mmmm. _Opium._ She's wearing perfume."

He seated himself on her bed and waited. And waited. He hummed. He examined his claws.

"Huh. She's got a bladder this size of a pea. It never takes her this long."

He sniffed the air again. It was one of his favorite scents, at least on her. It had been quite a surprise to smell it in here, when there hadn't been any hint of it in the hall. His eyes opened wide.

"So," he reasoned, "If I can smell it in here, but not in the hall, how did she leave the room without leave a trace. I mean, she can do that gate thingie. But why gate to the bathroom when it's right down the hall. She only does that when she's in a big hurry, needs to pass through walls, or doesn't . . . want . . . to . . . be . . . seen. Ooops."

He reached over, cracked the door, and morphed back into the bee, once again running the gauntlet of sensors.

Meanwhile . . .

Raven was beginning to get irritated. I mean, sure, he didn't know she was coming, so he couldn't know he was keeping her waiting. But really, how long could he take. It was almost as if he was waiting for something to . . ."

"Oh Azar."

Her hand dropped to her hip, but just encountered gossamer thin imported Chinese silk (barely) over bare flesh. Petite girls setting off to seduce young men in the childhood bedrooms don't generally carry bulky, round communicators with them. It makes their hips look . . . chunky. And nobody wants that. Quickly Raven crossed her arms, brought them down like a guillotine, and vanished into the Void.

When her vision cleared, she called out softly, "Garfield?"

There was no answer, but looking around swiftly she noted that her door was cracked open. (She always kept it shut tight.) Her nightshirt and panties that she distinctly remembered flinging to the floor in her hurry to change were draped over the back of her chair.

"This is ridiculous. She grabbed her comm, flipped it open, and dialed Garfield using her speed dialer.

It rang. And rang. And rang. Raven summoned up all her patience and waited. Sure enough, after about five minutes, the screen flickered.

"Raven?" said Changeling. Even on the small screen, his face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. She giggled silently.

"Garfield – stay where you are. Don't move."

She closed her comm, tossed it onto the vanity, and gated back to his room. She landed right behind him, and threw her arms around his chest from behind, pulling him to her, the thin silk of her gown slippery against her breasts as she pressed herself against his bare back.

"Hi," she said.

"I guess great minds thing alike," he grinned.

Raven glanced over at the bunk beds and wrinkled her nose.

"Mind one more trip?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, still smiling.

A little while later, Raven's silk gown hung from one corner of the large four-poster bed in her room, while the bottom half of the karate gi Garfield had been wearing lay on the floor by the bed.

Garfield lay on his back, hands behind his head, a smug expression on his face. Raven propped herself up on both elbows and turned her head to look at him, grinning quietly to himself.

She raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You should probably go ahead and thump your chest in masculine triumph."

"I can't help it. When you scream my name like that, it makes me feel good about myself," he grinned.

Raven turned maroon. "I just hope nobody heard me. I forgot where we were."

He just grinned again. Raven hit him with a pillow, and then turned toward him, pressing her breasts into his side.

"So – what was Rita talking about when she mentioned video games. She made it sound pretty important."

The grin drained away, then he made a face. "Could you please not bring up my mother at times like this? It kinda sucks the wind out of my sails."

Raven looked away and snorted quietly. "Okay, but that doesn't let you out from under." She poked him. "Spill."

"Okay," he sighed. "We've talked about my brain before, right?"

"Um, not really." She thought for a moment.

"Yes, we have. I looked at your childhood bookshelf. You're a pretty bright guy. I know why you play the clown, but why don't you, well, think more."

"I don't have to," he said quietly. "Animals don't have to think. They _know._"

"That doesn't make any sense, you know."

"Okay, try this on for size. You know that when I take on the form of an animal, I get it's abilities. The sonar of a dolphin, the hearing of a fox, and so on, right?"

"Sure."

"I also get their instincts. That's why I don't have to learn to fly as a hummingbird or swim as a salmon. I already know how."

"Okay," she said. "But what does that have to do with . . ."

"Just stick with me," he answered. "I want you to understand this. That stuff gets . . . impressed onto my mind. It never goes away entirely. If I had wings, I could flap like a hummingbird for you right now. So that's why it's so hard for me to get up in the morning in the winter. My bear instincts are telling me to hibernate."

"What tells you to hibernate in the summer?" she asked.

"Ha. Ha. Do you want to hear this, or not?"

"Sorry."

"_Anyway . . ._" He shot her a look. "The longer I'm in a form, and the more often I take it, the bigger an impression it makes. It's cumulative."

"Okay? Still waiting for the video game relevance."

"What form do I fight in more than any other?"

"That's easy. Given the space, you use the T-rex. He's the biggest, strongest, and most . . . savage. . . of . . . your . . . forms." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him in silence, her eyes large.

"I think you're getting it. What do you suppose the instincts of a T-rex are?" he said, with a small, low smile.

"I'm just guessing, but that would be to kill and eat a lot of . . . stuff?"

"Got it in one. In the form of the T-rex, my instinct is to kill everything that moves tear it to pieces, and then snarf down the yummiest, juiciest parts until my belly can't hold any more."

He grinned a dark grin, his lips pulling back from his fangs.

"The lions instincts are similar. But in addition to killing all the people near him, _he _wants to run off or kill all the males and mount the remaining females. Oh, and he only hunts in the night, so that one comes up for me come sunset."

His eyes glittered in the low light. "At the most intense parts of my adolescence, Mento had to sedate me sometimes."

Raven gasped in spite of herself. Changeling made a face. "It's not that bad. It's not like I was Lon Chaney running amok among the peasants of Transylvania. I was never in any danger of losing control and eating people. But I would get so edgy I couldn't sleep, and I became moody snark personified. Hey, now that I think about it, I remind me of _you._"

Raven stuck out her tongue at him.

"The videogames, well, the violent ones . . . sate that those instincts. The more realistic and bloody, the better they blunt those impulses, and allow my normal awesome charisma to shine through."

Raven stared. She blinked. Then she said – "So, you sit there, repeating the same action over and over, to maintain control of emotions and impulses that would otherwise be destructive?"

"Yep," he said. "Without them, I'd be mean, prone to violence, and maybe dangerous."

"You do realize what you doing?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"You're meditating."

"Oh no," he said, with an air of high drama. "Say it isn't so."

He collapsed on the bed, hand to forehead. Raven hit him with a pillow again.

"I guess Rita figured if you were sharing my bed, you deserved to know that I have . . . issues. Is it going to be a problem?"

Raven made a face. "No. I'm safe with you."

"I'm flattered. How do you know?"

"I don't know how I know. I just do. I always have."

She snuggled up to his side.

"Light, please."

He turned off the bedside light.

"And for once," she said, "No snoring, please?"

"You first," he said.

The next morning Raven awoke to a tapping at the door.

"Garfield. Raven. Breakfast is ready."

It was Rita.

Raven silently hammered on his shoulder. His eyes popped open.

"Garfield?"

He stared around, eyes wide.

"Just answer," said Rita.

"Um," he said, "Thanks mom. We'll, ah, be down in a few minutes."

"All right. Don't be long. It's waffles!"

Rita's footsteps receded down the hallway.

"Totally busted," said Changeling.

"Totally," agreed Raven. "How did she know?"

He looked at her quizzically. Then his eyes opened in understanding. "That's right. You were raised in a monastery. She's a _mom._ Mom's just _know._ They _always _know. They just choose to let on to some things, but not to others. Our challenge now is to figure out, not how she knew, but why she chose to let us know she knew."

Breakfast was an odd experience, with Rita and Steve both smirking but merely making small-talk. The younger couple was subdued, but held up their end of the conversation.

Raven excused herself to meditate in the garden. After she was gone, Rita grinned a wicked little grin. "Garfield, if I _really_ wanted to keep you out of her bed, I would have just told you about the time Steve and I had sex in it."

"Mother!" Changeling gaped.

"You know," said Steve, "Now that I think about it, I think we did it in the chair he's sitting in, that time we got drunk on our anniversary."

"Gaaaaah!" said Garfield as he jumped up from his chair.

"I'm, um, gonna go help Raven meditate," and he headed out toward the garden.

Rita looked over at Steve. "That was cruel."

Steve snickered. "You started it."

That night there was no sneaking around, and in the darkness, Raven considered what she'd learned this weekend gravely. As she listened to Garfield's even breathing turn into small snores, she considered Rita's words. "Decide if you want to be the one occupying the lot marked 'wife/girlfriend/mate.' Then try to make sure you the one he _wants_ in that space." In all the years, Rita had never given up her essential sense of self, but she'd also become who was necessary to be a good life-partner to Steve. They'd had an ugly beginning, but with hard work had made it work. Even with his twisted childhood and her . . . insane background, she and Garfield were starting out in a far better place than Rita and Steve. Maybe she could . . . . bend just a little from time to time a little for the sake of that.

Raven entered the tiny room ahead of Garfield, slowly making her way to the padded bench. The dim lighting glittered on the metal fittings around her. She licked her lips nervously. She sat down on the thick, heavy leather. It pressed against her ass and the backs of her thighs as Garfield buckled the straps around her thighs.

"Raven, you don't have to do this."

"I know," she replied, her voice quiet but steady. "But I've been thinking. You've come a long way for me. You've made a _lot_ of changes to fit into my life. Maybe it's my turn. You're right: this is _so_ not my thing."

The second pair of straps crossed between her breasts, rendering her almost immobile.

"But, you see, I've learned that you have . . . needs. And I don't want you to have to fulfill them alone. Or, worse, find someone else to fulfill them with you."

She swallowed uncomfortably. The musky scent of the tiny room made her head ache a little, especially since she knew exactly what was coming. She could sense his excitement.

He looked at her, his emerald eyes pinning her own.

"If you're sure. I don't want to do this if it means you're going to be mad at me or hate me."

She bit her lip in hesitation.

"I'm sure. Just do it."

She flinched a little as he raised his arm over her, its shadow falling across her face. Then she closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come. It was only going to sting for a little while, and it would make him very happy.

"Atomic batteries to power," he shouted, "Turbines to speed! Okay – hit it!"

Raven threw her hand forward blindly and slapped the ignition piston, and the Doom Patrol's vintage rocket sled roared to life once again, the pressure of the launch pushing Raven back into the seat, carrying the young couple back the way they came, to the launch pad, Jump City, and the next stage of their lives.


	47. Winter Break

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

Victorthe3rd – It's nice to be missed.

Shadico – The want for offspring is further down the road. Staying alive is an animal's first instinct. Reproducing is the second one.

Wajinga watu – And then I took almost three weeks for the next update.

Katwizzle – Glad you liked it.

Dragonkyng – Well, it got here eventually.

Greyshield – Happy to make your day.

Mynomdeplume – Glad you liked to look and feel of the Doom Patrol. Man, what a messed up bunch of people. Season 5 did happen, I've just tweaked it a little bit.

Yeah – the Return of the Ex is on my radar. I think I can spin it in a new and entertaining fashion. Although you have a point – I'll have to carefully review the final episode. I may choose to omit it. Not sure yet. But that's for down the road.

No – the final word on kids hasn't happened. Raven just thinks it has.

More from the supporting characters. I'll see what I can do.

BloodRose101 – Glad to hear from you. Hope to hear from you more.

Darkness On the Rise – Thank you. Writing as fast as I can. What can I say, life is full and rich.

Animelover56438 – Glad you found it funny. I love making people laugh.

Shugokage – Thanks. Some people aren't happy with the changes I'm making, and I can't help that. I'm glad you like the way the Changeling is developing.

Alister – Old Trek fan from WAAAAAY back.

Chowbo – I have a confession to make. I stole the "my parents had sex in the chair" gag from That 70's Show. Red and Kitty tortured their son with it in my favorite episode.

JOHNXGambit – On, now, it wasn't that bad.

Lord Vukodlak – Meditation. See – it's all about point of view. If you look at things the right way, they all make sense.

TheCallMeReaper – Thanks. This story has turned out FAR longer than I expected. I really should start winding it up soon. But I've got a few more scenes I want to write, and we have to get there first.

Daniibabii – Thanks. Updating as quickly as I may.

Egg1 – You stopped? What ran you off?

TW – I thought about throwing in a number of other near misses as they chased each other around the building, but realized that Raven's too bright to do that.

Egg1 – He'll never admit that he purrs. Or growls. And no, I wouldn't jerk them back to step one. The whole purpose of this exercise is to watch them grow. Glad you liked the Rents and the paired conversations. They were a lot of fun to write. Especially Steve. I had to research the cigar stuff. Don't smoke 'em myself.

Nuka – Glad you liked it. And yeah, most of my checklists end with "Atomic batteries to power, Turbines to speed!" I thought I was the last person alive to remember that.

Lord Anubis – Glad you liked it.

Gyhy – Caught. Yes, in fact, the juvenile Beast Boy's bookshelf was, in fact, MY bookshelf when I was about 14. Yeah, I had great fun strapping Raven down at the end.

TW – Check the interlude at the beginning of this chapter.

Boys n Arrows – Funny you should ask. This is, in fact, Christmas in the Tower.

Domination of the World – My favorite line in the chapter is "Dude. She's GREEN." Glad you liked it.

AkatsukixxxProdigy – Glad you like it. I write from a male perspective. It occasionally frustrates my lady-readers, but I think it's refreshing.

DreamerAtDawn – I'm agoin'. I'm agoin'.

Fusterclucked – Sorry for the wait. Hopefully the next one won't be too far behind.

TheWonderingMan – I made you sick? How? And has there been a policy change about MA stories?

ChaosMuramasa13 – Can't please everybody.

Borgus – Ok. How's this one?

RavenofObsidian – I'm glad you like it. Everybody seems to have gotten a kick out of Rita and Steve harassing Changeling about his sex life.

* * *

Author's Notes:

One day, I'm going to finish up one of these chapters when it's not after one in the morning and be able to give the Author's Notes a proper polish. As you can see, I'm not dead, and I haven't quit the story. I apologize for the subject matter – I wanted to do something seasonal for the holidays, and then didn't get it done until after the New Year. Sorry about that. Hopefully the next chapter will go faster.

Hints – this chapter's quiet. There are no earth shaking revelations, nor action sequences. Raven performs a parlor trick at the Titan's Christmas party that I stole from David Eddings Polgara the Sorcess.

Looking ahead – Changeling and Starfire are going to make a disastrous mistake. Then we're all going to Tamaran.

Stay with me. Just a few more chapters to go.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of me?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

Interlude: Doom Patrol Headquarters, Midway City

The couple sat on the back porch overlooking the rose guard. Rita frowned as Steve lit a cigar. He turned toward her and spoke.

"So what did you think?"

Rita leaned forward on the concrete railing and pursed her lips.

"I like her. Strong willed. Strong personality. She's going to need that. The boy's personality is . . . loud."

Steve replied. "You think so? You didn't seem to have a whole lot of trouble pushing her around."

Rita smiled. "Men. Of course she let me push her around. I'm her boyfriend's mother. If she makes me mad enough, I'm in a position to make life very rough on her. She's got plenty of backbone."

"If you say so. I didn't see it."

Rita smiled again. "You weren't supposed to. To keep the peace I'm allowed to gnaw on her, her personality, her past, or even her racial background. If I lay a finger on their relationship, I'll pull back a bloody stump. She's subtle, but clear. "

"I'm glad you like her."

"How about the boy?"

"He's not a boy any more Rita. He's young and inexperienced, but he's a man. And he doomed."

"Doomed?" Rita asked.

"She has his heart in her hands."

"Did he say that?" she wondered.

"He didn't have to. He was ready to snap my neck for hurting her feelings," he answered.

"Well," she said, "They're off to a better start than we had."

Steve's face hardened slightly.

"I'm though apologizing."

Rita immediately smiled, gently. "I didn't mean it like that. Not anymore. I just meant that, well, it was hard in the beginning, but we turned out okay. Maybe since they don't have our handicaps, they'll turn out even better."

She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The man looked up at her, smiling.

* * *

The primary engines of the T-ship rumbled quietly as Raven and Garfield cruised westward above the main traffic lanes. There was almost no traffic at their altitude; the T-ship was running particularly smoothly and the young couple had much to think about as they wended their way home.

Eventually Raven spoke. "It's confirmed. I don't like traveling like this. I can't touch you and I don't like that."

"Sorry," he responded. "We'll know better next time."

Raven looked at the weather report.

"Woah," she said, "check this out."

Garfield looked at his own console. "Wow," he said, "that is one big winter weather front. We're lucky, though. It looks like we'll get home hours and hours ahead of it."

"I know," she said. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Really?" he asked.

"Sure. Heavy snowfall like that shuts down almost all crime. I'll be able to fort up in the Tower with a good book and not be bothered until the thaw."

"Good point. And there will be snowball fights."

"I don't think so," she said.

Garfield sat there in wicked silence for a moment, and then merely said, "That's okay. As the wise man once said, 'If Raven will not go to the snowball fight; then the snowball fight will come to Raven.'"

There was a long pause.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," he said solid assurance in his voice.

Raven wasn't sure what to say to that, so she compromised with, "I'll think about it."

He chuckled, then startled. "Hey! Guess what?"

"What?"

"The day before yesterday was the Winter Solstice. When we get back to Titan Tower, we're going to be snowed in for the Holidays," he said with more than a little enthusiasm.

Raven smiled quietly. The annual Titan gift exchange would be on Christmas Morning, and she'd actually done some shopping over the past few months. There would be something appropriate for everyone this year.

"Being social," she thought, "is a lot more work that I thought it would be."

The T-ship landed at Titan Tower without difficulty, and the elevator took it to the hanger where Raven and Garfield took the time to interlock the two shards with the other three, leaving the greater ship ready for emergency action.

"Raven," said Garfield, "You go ahead and check in. I'll refuel the shards before I come up."

Raven grabbed her overnight bag and headed first to her room to unpack, then to the common room to check in with Robin.

"Hey Raven," he said, "Fun trip?"

"Fun wasn't the word," Raven replied. "But it was productive."

"Were Rita and Steve as scary as you thought they'd be?"

"Who said I thought they'd be scary?" she replied.

"Who has a link directly into your brain? You were _nervous_ when you left here," said Robin.

"Oh, right," Raven said. "Well, not exactly scary. But it was pretty intense. I've got a lot to think about."

"Well, let me know if you want to talk about it."

"Okay."

Raven looked around the common room. Evergreen garlands festooned the walls. Mistletoe hung from every arch. There were wreaths on every doorway.

"I see Cyborg has been busy."

"Steve and Cliff helped before they had to leave. It's been a quiet weekend."

"Have you seen the weather front that's coming in? We're going to be stuck in here for a while."

"Sure. Starfire has went out to get groceries. She's going to get enough to get us through the storm, plus extra for Christmas dinner."

A bead of sweat suddenly formed on Raven's temple and dropped to the floor.

"_Starfire_ is going to buy food? We'll be living on mustard and cotton candy!"

Robin laughed. "No, Raven. I sent a list with her. She'll steer toward real food."

Changeling entered the room. "How'd the weekend go? Cliff and Steve useful?"

"They were great," said Robin. "Control Freak was _really_ unprepared to deal with Cyborg _and_ Robotman at the same time. He'd modified his remote to shut down Cy's servos, but it didn't have enough capacity to handle Cy and Robotman at the same time, so they tag-teamed him. The prison doctor says that the bruises will fade in a few weeks. "

Robin's grin was just a little smug.

"I didn't see the vertijet in the hanger. They've already left?"

"Yeah. The city's really quiet, and I wanted them to be headed east ahead of the storm front."

"So, no crime on the horizon?"

"Nope. Seems like _everyone_ is battening down the hatches, even the bad guys."

There was a rattle out in the corridor. Both Raven and the men turned to see an enormous Douglas fir waddling into the living room, singing in Cyborg's voice.

"O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree, o Christmas tree, o Christmas treeeeeeeeeee . . . ."

The tree was truly enormous, but Cyborg's enhanced strength carried it to the corner with no problem. The only thing was, the branches were so broad and full that you couldn't see him anywhere. Only a pair of blue electronic feet sticking comically out from under the boughs.

"Are you sure it's big enough?" asked Raven sardonically as she looked up to where the upper branches brushed the high ceiling of the Titan Tower common room.

"Almost," grinned Cy. Next year I might install a dome in the ceiling so that I can put up a larger tree. Man, I just _love_ the holidays."

Raven's lips pressed in a tight line to suppress a grin.

"You," said Robin, "just love the excuse to eat."

"Mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, roast goose, dressing, fried okra, corn on the cob . . . what's not to love?" replied the man-machine.

"Six weeks on the treadmill removing all of that from my hips," replied Raven.

"Raven," said Starfire as she entered the common room laden with an enormous mound of groceries. "Have I not warned you about the telling of the female secrets? The men will lose their image of us as the goddesses of perfection if they know about the sweating on the treadmill."

"But," Raven answered, "We share a gym. They _see_ us on the treadmill."

Starfire glanced at Robin, shrugged, and explained, "When they do the seeing of us on the treadmill, they are _not_ thinking of the weight we are trying to control."

"True, 'dat," said Cyborg, from where he was stabilizing the tree.

"Further discussion of this is the 'girl talk,' and I am now doing the subtle changing of the subject," Starfire concluded.

"Right," said Changeling, bouncing into the room. "What are we talking about?"

Starfire piled the groceries on the table while looking about with mild desperation. "Um, the tree corpse. Many of your earthly way remain strange to me. Why does Cyborg bring the tree corpse into our home just after the Solar solstice every year?"

"It's an old custom," Raven answered. "It came out of north-central Europe. The Anglosphere started decorating with them for Christmas during Queen Victoria's reign."

"Chris," mused Starfire, "Must have been an exceptional person if humans celebrate his weight gain annually. Tell me, Robin, was Chris able to end a famine, or other food-related crisis?"

Changeling, just sipping some eggnog, did a slight spit-take. "Starfire? Um – you've been here for, like seven years, and you don't know the basics of the Christmas story?"

"Well," said Starfire, looking away, "we are often busy. I read a _lot,_ but there is much to learn about earthly society. Much of it is contradictory . . ."

The alien blushed, ". . . and I do not like to ask the stupid questions."

Her voice hardened slightly. "I am _not_ stupid. There is just so _much _to learn, and no one tells me what are the important things and what are the trivial things."

She ground her teeth. "It is most frustrating."

"It's okay, Star. Nobody expects you to know things you haven't been told," said Robin. "I'm no scholar, but why don't we talk about the basics?"

Cyborg began opening large boxes of decorations over by the tree. "I'd take it in chronological order, Rob," he said. "It will make more sense in context."

"Good idea. Okay, Starfire. The celebration of the winter solstice on earth has been going on for a long, long time."

"Like the July the 4th Celebration?"

"Much longer. So long that we're not sure exactly what started it. The Romans, almost twenty five hundred years ago had a celebration we'd recognize, they called Saturnalia. They brought winter greenery indoors, exchanged gifts, spent too much money, and had parties with relatives they could barely stand. Instead of 'Merry Christmas,' they said 'io Saturnalia."

"That's right," put in Raven, as she drifted over to the tree and started hanging ornaments above Cyborg's reach. "At the same time, the Celtic and Germanic tribes the Romans fought with _also_ had solstice traditions, including celebrations of the god Mithras."

"That is a thing I do not understand. How is it that Earthlings worship many gods?"

"Well, Star," said Changeling, "The advantage on Tamaran, is that you can actually get in a spaceship and go the X'hal's house and meet her if you want to."

Starfire's eyes got wide. "No one would _ever_ do _that!"_

Raven spoke again. "The gods most humans worship are more . . . existential than X'hal. It's impossible outside of different faith's holy books to document that any of them have _ever_ actually shown up here. Without empirical proof, or a given god being willing to show up for a biopsy, humans have been free to interpret matters of faith in many different ways."

She flitted to the upper branches again. Starfire also flew up with an armload of ornaments.

Raven continued. "There's a lot of study about why the Christian faith selected the Solstice as the time of year they would celebrate the birth of their Redeemer. One theory, the most popular one, is that the early Church co-oped pre-Christian solstice celebrations in a cynical marketing attempt to make Christianity more palatable to Germanic and Celtic tribesmen. This was around 1700 years ago. On the other hand, there's another theory that suggests that the December 25th date is reckoned because it's nine months from Passover, the Jewish celebration of deliverance."

"Raven," said Changeling as he struggled to help Cyborg with the tree lights, "I didn't know you were a Christian."

Raven looked away, reddening as she hung another ornament.

"I'm . . . not. Not exactly. I just . . . well. A faith that promises unconditional forgiveness, no matter what you have done has a certain . . . appeal to me. I'm trying to keep an open mind."

He smiled up at her from the ground.

Robin spoke from the dining area, where he began to sort through the groceries to put away the perishables.

"I guess having actually, you know, _seen_ Hell, matters of faith are more concrete to you."

Raven stopped, a glass bauble dangling from her hand as she hovered next to the giant tree.

"Actually, I have no idea if the dimension I call 'Perdition,' Trigon's home, is really part of the Christian Hell or not. Every time I've gone there, it's been a quick trip. And I certainly don't go poking around there casually. Even now that he's not home. But I've never met God _or _Satan personally. Or Jesus."

"Raven," said Starfire curiously, "Did you not once tell me that some cults consider the Trigon the God of Fear."

Raven darted back to the boxes for another handful of ornaments. She sighed. "True. There are a few cults here on Earth that worships him as the God of Fear. And the denizens of Perdition, of course. In fact, wherever fear or terror is a common part of life, you'll find nasty little clumps of desperate people trying to placate him. Even on Tamaran."

"That was over five hundred years ago. We only have legends. That was one of the times that X'hal did the 'showing up.'"

"Say," said the Robin, "Raven? If Trigon is a god, would that make you a goddess, or a demi-god?"

Raven's head whipped around, eyes wide, nostril's flaring, startled. The she smiled a tiny Raven smile and levitated up in front of the big window, the setting sun at her back. She whirled, her cloak flaring out in a pirouette.

"You've found me out. For I am Raven, Goddess of Darkness! Worship me, or suffer the consequences!"

She looked over her shoulder at the rest of the team as her cloak settled back down over her body. The rest of the team just stared at her, jaws dropping slightly.

"Oh, please," she said. "I wasn't _serious._"

She muttered under her breath. "One day, I will figure out how to do 'kidding.'"

Starfire clapped. "It is 'irony!' You have said to do the thing you do not want, and the juxtaposition is _funny._ Tell us Raven, should we actually _do_ the worshipping?"

Raven's head jerked back. She really _had _been just kidding. But . . . She looked over at the Changeling. He was still gaping. The poor guy was never going to be completely free of these little shocks. Dating her was _always _going to be an adventure.

"Please don't," she said. "Being worshipped is actually habit-forming for my kind."

"Your . . . kind?" said Changeling.

Raven and Starfire both took hold of opposite ends of ends of a long strand of tinsel and flew around the vast tree in opposite directions, winding it in a crisscrossing pattern that glittered in the fluorescent light of the common room.

"My demonic heritage. When demons are worshipped, they can feel it, and draw power from it. It's a very heady feeling. What I imagine ex, or maybe speed feels like."

"That sounds like the voice of experience, Raven," said Robin.

Changeling just stared some more.

"I . . . when I was eleven there was a splinter cult in Azarath. A secret sect tried to placate Trigon through worshipping me. Azar saw the change in me almost immediately, and was able to put a stop to it. It only went on for a few days. But I'll never forget what it felt like. So no, no worshipping Raven. Please."

She settled back on the ground next to her boyfriend.

"You're a _goddess._ I've got a love goddess in my bed. I'm going to be impossibly smug from now on," he stage whispered at her.

She turned maroon. "Stop it. No you don't. Just a minor demonoid out on the raggedy edge of the pantheon."

"Still, I'll be more careful about falling at your feet."

"Probably a good idea."

"Anybody else coming in for the Holidays?" Robin asked Cyborg.

"I'm probably gonna be fifth-wheeling it for the party. Nothing's flying out there. The snow hit an hour ago. Bee was going to come in, but she's not going to be able to fly in that."

He poured water into the bowl feeding the base of the tree, spread the red velvet tree skirt over the reservoir, and crawled out from under the massive tree.

Starfire stepped over to the window and shivered, looking at the fat, white flakes coming down.

"It is very cold out there. I would hate to be out in that weather."

A buzzer sounded from Robin's command console.

"The door? Who could that be?" he said.

"I've got it," said the Changeling.

Changeling went down the elevator and ambled across the vast waiting room on the first floor of Titan Tower, whistling the theme song to "Oh! My! Goddess!" as he went.

As always, he was a little cautious about opening the door, because Titan Tower didn't have regular ferry service. Anyone who came to the door cared enough to charter a boat, or could fly. The door hissed open, and there stood Bumblebee, nose, cheeks, and fingers blue, her arms wrapped around her torso. Next to her stood Kid Flash.

"'Neither rain, no snow, nor gloom of night . . ." said the speedster.

"I thought that was the Pony Express," said Changeling.

"Whatever," said Kid Flash. "I'll be right back. I have to go to Steel City to pick up her luggage. I couldn't carry it and her both."

Flash vanished in a flurry of snowflakes only to return a moment later to drop off a stack of boxes.

"Gotta run," he said, cheerily, "I'm spending the Holidays in Boca Raton with Jinx."

And just like that he was gone. A couple of snowflakes drifted to the floor where they melted almost immediately.

Bumblebee spoke, "D-d-d-did you know that-that whatever it is that-that protects him from windchill does _not_ affect anyone he is c-c-carrying?"

He leaned in to give her a hug, then reared back.

"Wow! You're not kidding. We need to get some hot chocolate in you, stat!"

The two heroes headed back up to the common room where hot chocolate was already brewing.

"Nice tree," said Bumblebee to Cyborg. "Won't they miss it at Rockefeller Center?"

"Nah," said Cyborg, "I left them a hologram in its place."

Bumblebee gave Cy a quick double-take. "Sometimes I can't tell if you're serious or not," she said as she sipped the chocolate.

"So," asked Bumblebee as she warmed up, "what now?"

"Well," said the Changeling, "We're gonna watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. But first: Christmas Carols!"

"I, uh, don't sing," she said.

"Oh, that's okay," Changeling replied. "Neither do I. I sing anyway."

"True, 'dat," said Cyborg.

Changeling made a face at him.

Titan Tower doesn't have a piano, but Cyborg was able to put up some karaoke background music on the sound system, and even scrolling lyrics up on the big video wall. Much laugher ensued. Changeling did, indeed, sing like a yowling tenor jungle cat. Cyborg, however, produced a very satisfactory baritone, and Robin's tenor made up for Changeling's shortfall. Raven's low contralto and Starfire's soprano gave them a full range of voices, and they caroled into the night.

The highlight came, though, when the round of "sing your favorite, solo" started.

Robin's tenor delivered an elegant "Ave Maria," and Changeling's fractured tenor made it through "Jingle Bells" without injuring himself or anyone else. Cyborg's "Silent Night" was smooth and mellow. Bumblebee, clearly embarrassed struggled like a trooper through "White Christmas." Starfire's choice of "Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer" made everyone smile. But when the last notes of "you'll go down in history" faded from the air, eyes began to turn toward Raven.

"Oh no," she said. "You're lucky you got me to sing in an ensemble. Ravens aren't songbirds."

"Oh, but Raven," replied Starfire, "you have such a pretty voice."

"Yeah, Raven," put in Robin. "You've been in fine voice all night. Don't quit on us now."

"C'mon, Raven," Changeling cajoled.

"Everybody else put themselves out there, fair's fair," Cyborg said.

"Surely you have a favorite we have not sung tonight," said Starfire.

Raven's eyes dropped down and her faced turned away. "All right," she said softly.

"Aw, c'mon Raven," said Changeling, "We all . . . wait, what?"

"I said, 'All right.' I'm going to sing."

"Okay Raven," said Cyborg, turning to the karaoke kit, "What should I queue up?"

"Nothing," said Raven, quietly. "I'm going to sing 'a capella.' Just give me a minute."

Raven raised her eyes and turned halfway toward the big window. Raven stood there looking out toward the winter night, her face halfway in shadow. The snow had stopped and the stars glittered against the velvet black night, high above the city skyline. Raven parted her lips and began to sing. Apparently, Raven's favorite Christmas Carol was "O Holy Night." Raven's singing voice, a low contralto so every different from the gravely speaking voice they all knew so well wasn't "pretty," but it was clear, and strong, and filled the high tech environs of the Titan common room. Her teammates stood silently, listening as each note flickered to the ceiling and chased around the room.

It was when she hit the chorus for the first time that things got real. A flicker of dark energy wrapped around her throat like a scarf. And a second female voice joined the first. It was a strong alto, singing in time and unison with Raven's contralto, but providing a second tone, a two-note chord. Robin's jaw dropped and Cyborg's eyes went round. Starfire started to burst into applause, but Bumblebee quickly grabbed her hands and kept her quiet. At the second chorus, Raven added a third voice, a soprano. The three note chord coming from the single woman filled the room, wound through the third voice and final chorus, and then faded into the winter night.

Raven stood, eyes on the floor, not sure if it had turned out at all like she'd hoped.

"Raven," said Robin, "that was . . . "

"Awesome!" interrupted Changeling.

"Wow, Raven," said Cyborg, "I did NOT know you could to THAT."

Raven's cheeks flashed maroon, "Just a parlor trick, really. Not a big deal."

But she smiled a tiny Raven smile, pleased as she listened to her friends applaud.

It was later that Raven and Garfield took a few moments on the roof to enjoy the view of the skyline, look at the stars over the ocean, and sit together, alone for a time. After a long while, Garfield spoke.

"Been an interesting year. Lots of changes."

"I know."

"Any regrets? "

"Regrets?"

"Well," he said, "You've given up a lot to be with me. Privacy. Time to study. Peace. Quiet."

She laughed softly. "Not so much, really. I've given up solitude. You give me enough space. I'm . . ." she stopped. Startled.

"You're what?"

"Something I never thought I'd be."

The silence stretched out between them.

He looked over at her.

"Happy."


	48. They Really Didn't Mean To

Shout-Outs:

Animelover56348 – I'm glad it worked for you.

Devoted Guest – Hey, I've filled you with d'awwww!

JOHNXGambit – Easy, just read the _next_ chapter. No warm fuzzies here.

Shugokage – Thanks, I try.

Lord Anubis Judge of the Dead – Thanks. Although it is a little disorienting to be complemented on cuteness by a guy called "Lord Anubis, Judge of the Dead!"

LadyoftheGags – I hope you don't mind a little bitter to follow your sweet.

Bouts of Insanity 42 – Sorry to lose you.

BloodRose101 – Thanks. It's a tough balance. I like to throw in enough facts to anchor the story in reality, but I don't want to turn these chapters into an undergraduate thesis on irrelevant material that's gonna bore everybody.

Darkness on the Rise – I confess. I lifted the idea for Raven's triple voice from David Edding's "Polgara the Sorceress." It's one of my favorite reads.

Katwizzle – Glad you liked it. Hope you stored up the cute.

Gyhy – Nope – I will finish this story come hell or high water. I'm almost done. There will be a clear ending, and the final chapter will end with – 30 -, so everyone will know. I swear – I will not quit until it's done.

Guest – Thanks. Glad to hear from you.

Jimmy – You're very kind. But really, it was cheesy. I mean, I could practically smell the cheddar as I wrote.

Shadico – Here you go. Hope the wait wasn't too long.

Victorthe3rd – The secret to Changeling's success as a man is that he doesn't try to be perfect. He just tries to be better than he was yesterday. He tries to put himself in other people's shoes and feel the way that they do. Most of the time. Some times he really screws the pooch. (That's an old NASA expression. Did you know that?)

TW – Yeah. I wanted to do something seasonal and started it in plenty of time. Then got too busy to get it out for the Holidays.

Huntress of the Shadows – Glad you liked it. Hope the next update doesn't disappoint.

Dablman2020 – Glad you are enjoying it.

Nuka – Sorry to lose you.

"Another turning point a fork stuck in the road.  
Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go.  
So make the best of this test and don't ask why.  
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time.  
It's something unpredictable but in the end is right.  
I hope you had the time of your life."

Egg1 – glad to hear from you. Review when you can. I'll manage.

Chobow – Glad you liked it. I like to sing, but I'm completely untrained. But I know good when I hear it.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – I really love writing Starfire's fractured syntax.

KoppaSensei – Thanks. Sorry for the gripes, but I can't please everybody. Glad you like most of it. I try not to expand on the mythos more than I have to go grow the characters in logical directions. As to dating advice, well, I don't want to come off like a GI Joe cartoon ending, but sometimes I can't help myself.

00cLosetFreak00 – That has to be the most laudatory piece of hate mail I've ever gotten. Rest assured, sending someone into academic tests unarmed because they simply could not put my work down is some of the greatest praise I see. Thanks.

Caprichoso – Well, it's certainly longer than I originally planned, by like, two orders of magnitude. I had a series of scenes I wanted to write. But I had to write a boatload of other material for the scenes to fit the characters and be within the realm of believable. I'm still enjoying the story, but I can see the end from here. Just a few more scenes. I'm not sure how much more verbiage they are going to generate, but I've decided that I'm going to wrap the project up in no more than one year from starting. One of the things that's made it so long is that I keep finding tropes I want to try to put my own spin on and see if I can make it entertaining. I'm still flirting with the idea of The Return of the Ex. (Terra – boo! Hisss!)

Rubicsage – Yeah, me too. I thought about going into Jesus and Santa, but it was all so academic already. I didn't want to bore the readers any more than I had to to make Raven and Robin's points.

Tatsumarusmith – Thanks. I put a lot of effort into balancing enough details to make the scene believable, and too many details, which make the scene boring.

RandomDalmatian326 – I'm glad you're enjoying it. Sing all you like. I'll hear it in my heart. Or at least in my ego.

Anna1119 – I do read a lot. But a lot of it comes from life experience. I'm almost certainly older than you.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Okay – once again, I'm posting at 2 AM and I have to work tomorrow, so you're getting it short and sweet. Spoilers. Well, not really. But brace yourselves. We had warm and fuzzy last chapter. Buckle your seatbelts. We're in for a bumpy ride. What can I say – people make mistakes, and you can't have a tearful reconciliation without someone royally screwing up first. Farther down the road – a dramatic confrontation between Cyborg and the rest of the team. An epic battle for the fate of Tamaran! A quiet moment between Rita and Raven becomes noisy!

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

The seasons turned, as seasons do, and two years went by before the young people realized they were gone. Youth can be like that. When you're young, your youth seems like it's going to be there forever. Then you turn around and wonder where the time went. There were two more cozy Christmases in Titan Tower. And many, many birthdays. Raven's, of course, was usually marked softly. Her friends took to approaching her one at a time in quiet moments during the day to provide her with a small gifts and wish her a Happy Birthday, not making a Big Deal About It at all. Changeling was always last, and usually took her out for a quiet dinner where he would give her his gift, and remind her that "we're all glad you were born. Especially me." But things never stay the same. There were changes around Titan Tower, Jump City, and all over the United States. Control Freak's acne cleared up. Plasmus developed insomnia. Raven discovered "sunlight." Oh, she was never going to be found lying on the beach in a string bikini and covered in oil. But she did come to appreciate the sights and scents of the great outdoors. Often she would take a book and find a shady spot somewhere on Titan Island.

It was not too long after that, though, that things changed. It was just another routine day in Jump city. The skies were clear, blue, and filled with white puffy clouds. The early spring morning was brisk, but held the promise of a warm afternoon.

The alarm went off in Titan Tower and the team swiftly gathered in the common room.

"Trouble in the jewelry district," said Robin.

"That's odd," said Cyborg, "I'm reading seismic disturbances. Big ones."

None of the Titans spoke of it, but one name floated in their heads. They knew one person who could make the earth move for the entire city at once. Terra.

"I've found the epicenter. It's near the surface here," said Cyborg, pointing at the map on the widescreen.

"Titans, GO!" shouted Robin, and they headed for the door.

The team roared through the town, Starfire leading Raven and Changeling in a three-point arial formation, while Robin and the Cyborg drove the R-cycle and the T-car on the ground immediately below and behind them. The team screeched to a halt in the plaza at the heart of the jewelry district just as the ground began to shake and rock. A fissure opened in the center of the plaza, and a giant auger punched up through the ground. It was an ugly vehicle, lacking any elegance or grace in its design. Cyborg winced and shook his head. It resembled a large tank made out of old, blackened iron. Unlike a tank, it had no turret, and its forward section was clearly designed to tunnel through rock and earth, but lacked the skill that similar gear built (or funded) by General Immortus had.

A hatch opened on the top of the mole-machine, and a fat, greasy creature in dark glasses and wearing a hardhat emerged. He raised a large microphone, opened his porcine lips and spoke.

"I," he said pompously, "Am the Underminer. I may live beneath you, but _nothing_ is beneath me! All mineral wealth is the rightful property of the Underminer. All oil, coal, and jewelry are hereby confiscated!"

"Um," said Cyborg, "Haven't I heard of him? I mean, doesn't he usually work near Metroville?"

"I guess he decided he wasn't in the Incredibles weight class," put in Changeling.

"Well," said Starfire as starbolts flared at her fingertips, "we shall teach him that he is still doing the 'punching too high.'"

"Hey Underminer," called Robin, "Be careful. Making a mess in this town can get you put under the jail."

The Underminer sneered. "Your sword better be sharper than your tongue, boy!"

"Yours is duller than your wit! Titans, GO!"

The doors of the Underminer's mole machine fell open, and hoards of mole men poured out. The team waded in, with starbolt and sonic cannon, dark energy and flash bang grenades. And, of course, lions and tigers and bears. (Oh my!) In a very few minutes it was clearly illustrated that the Underminer wasn't going to fare any better here in Jump City than he had in Metroville. Abandoning his troops, he slapped the doors of the mole machine closed and fled into the subterranean spaces beneath Jump City.

The Titans left the city police to round up the Underminer's troups and chased the Underminer as he fled into the darkness. The mole machine moved faster than anyone expected. Apparently the near-blind villain had wandered about far below the city's infrastructure before finding his way to the jewelry district. He'd cut a complex network of unstable tunnels that wound around and around, turning back on themselves in an Escher-like pattern of chaos. The mole machine roared up and down the tunnels trying to shake off the Titans, who remained in close pursuit.

It was about a mile below the city streets that it happened. Starfire slowed down and summoned up tight starbolt, taking careful aim.

"If I can damage the mechanism, the machine will stop," she thought, "and we can extract him from the 'can' at our leisure."

Her eyes narrowed as she sought out a weak spot on the rear of the mole machine. Changeling raced alongside her in the form of a fox, the small, slender body ideal for the tight turns and narrow spaces underground. His vulpine instincts shivered, nudging him. Something wasn't right. Then he heard it clearly. Rock grinding on rock. The emerald fox glanced up. His eyes widened, but in the dim light he felt it more than saw it. Changeling launched himself toward Starfire. Morphing in mid-air, his human form caught her torso in a flying tackle, and shoved her over to the wall of the tunnel, shouting "Starfire! Look out!"

The tunnel shook and rocked as the ceiling collapsed. The entire gallery above rained down into the tunnel below, blocking access both forward and behind. Changeling shifted into the form of an elephant and stood over Starfire as the rocks and earth rained down around them. When the cavern grew silent, Changeling slowly shifted back to his human form, his back cautiously retreating from the quivering ceiling above him. He groped about in the pitch darkness. He flickered into an owl, but could see _nothing._ Low light vision isn't _no_ light vision. She shifted into a bat, and fired his sonar.

There – at the edge of the floor, next to what used to be the wall. He turned back into his human form and spoke.

"Starfire?" He gently grasped her arm.

"Are you all right?"

She didn't speak. She didn't move. With great care he explored her head for wounds. Starfire's thick mane of hair had cushioned her skull from the impact of hitting the wall. She shifted under his hands. He quickly sat back on his heels.

"Star?"

"Why is it so dark?"

"There's . . . there's been a cave-in Star. I haven't got a light."

Starfire's left hand flared, holding a green starbolt aloft, illuminating their prison.

The reduced cavern was oval shaped, maybe ten feet in diameter, rising to a dome above their heads about thirteen feet tall.[1] The walls were made up of large boulders and moist earth filled in the cracks between the stones "This," thought the Changeling, "is not good."

"Starfire," he started, "I, um, can't feel any breeze, even with my enhanced senses."

"No need," said the Tamaranian warrior. "I can make short work of this."

Starfire rose and extended her arms.

"Wait!" shouted the shapeshifter.

Starfire blinked. "Something is wrong?"

"Star, that roof is very, very unstable, and I think the entire weight of the city is sitting on top of it. If you try to punch through it, you might bring it all down on our heads. Unless you think you can . . ."

She shook her head, lowering her arms to her sides. "I am stronger than I look, but it is more than an earth-mile to the surface of the city. All the Boundless Confidence in the world will not allow me to punch through all of that."

"Let me see what I can find out."

Changeling shifted into a bat, and scanned the walls with his active sonar, then into a blue tick hound and sniffed carefully around all of the walls. He returned to his human form.

"It's not good, Star. I'd turn into a spider or a mouse and start trying to work my way out, but I can't feel any moving air or smell anything but more dirt and rock."

"Perhaps you should do the checking again."

"Star, I'm pretty sure . . ."

"Check again!" she said, raising her voice.

His head whipped around. Starfire was looking at him very intently. The light in the room wavered. He glanced down at her hands. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly.

"Okay, Star," he said quietly. "I'll check again."

In the form of a bat, rat, and mouse, he inspected the walls. As a hound he sniffed, snorted and smelled. He looked for a way out every way he could think of. But eventually he was forced back into his human form.

"Wow," he thought. "Starfire smells . . . different. There's still that hint of zorkaberries and spring rain, but she also smells . . . musky. It's probably because she's been sweating. And we're closed in and I've been hunting scents really hard."

"I'm sorry, Star, there's nothing."

"So we are . . . buried alive?"

"Starfire, no. Our friends have already missed us and are looking for us. It's only a matter of time before Cyborg locates us with his sonic thingy, Robin figures out we can't get out because the cave is unstable, and Raven gates us out of here. We're going to be fine."

The redhead slowly sat down. Her breathing was a little rapid.

"Are you . . . you know, ok?"

"I," she glanced away, "do not like the closed in spaces."

"That's what I smell," Garfield thought. "I smell her _fear_. I've never smelled fear from her before."

He spoke. "You have claustrophobia? I never knew."

"No one knows. I do not discuss it."

"But, why Star? I mean, we're your friends."

Her eyes narrowed and she turned her head back toward him. Her green-on-green eyes seemed to glow, reflecting the pulsing light of her starbolt.

"I am a warrior of The First Water, trained by the Warlords of Okaara," she said through clenched teeth. "I have mastered all seven weapon styles including the empty hand! Without fail, _all_ of my opponents have fallen before me. To have an irrational fear is to have a weakness."

This was a side of Starfire that Garfield had never seen. The silly, naïve alien was gone. In her place was a hard, abrasive soldier. No. Not a soldier: a warrior.

"Geeze, Star, everybody's got weaknesses."

"'Everybody," she said darkly, "Is not, by birth, the Supreme Ruler of all Tamaran. On _my_ planet, to show weakness is to invite a beating. And I did not wish my friends to see my . . . shame."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. We've all got limits. Heck, most of my personality is made up of limits."

Starfire relaxed a little as she smiled. He sat near her, a tower of strength in the crushing darkness. He'd always been a great friend. He was so full of smiles and laughter, even if she barely had the cultural background to 'get' his jokes. "You are most kind. I do not know that I will ever get used to the kindness earthlings show so casually."

"You make it easy."

"I give you the thanks," she said, looking at his lean silhouette in the flickering light of her shaking starbolt. "It is not usually as serious as it looks right now. I do not have the trouble in elevators, or cars, or tunnels. It is only when I am someplace small that I cannot . . . punch my way out of."

"So . . . how do I help you?"

"Just the talking helps. I am working very hard to not think of the weight of the city pressing down on the roof above our heads. And maybe if I sit closer to you."

And so they talked. He told her stories of his childhood in Africa, and she of growing up a warrior princess. Starfire slid closer to the Changeling, her arms wrapped around her knees, and her eyes tightly focused on the floor.

"So," Changeling asked after a while, "How is it that you are the heir apparent, when your sister is older?"

Starfire made a face. "When we were young, she was unable to summon the joy of flight. It was only much later, as an adult that she learned to fly. Unable to feel joy, she was judged to have a disqualifying flaw."

"Harsh."

"It could have been worse. Had she had a visible birth defect, she would have been exposed on the mountainside near the city."

"Exposed?"

"Left alone, a helpless infant, for the warrags to come and consume her."

"Eaten alive?"

"Or death by starvation."

"Star, I don't know what to say. You really _are_ very different from us, aren't you?"

"I am," she replied. "I do not do the 'fitting in' well. I begin to think I never will."

"Don't say that," he said. "You fit in just fine."

She looked up at him. "You smile so easily. I have always admired that. It is so very different from home. Only my k'norfka ever smiled at me, after the Gordanians came."

She licked her lips. The darkness at the edge of the green light seemed to press closer. She could feel the weight of the earth pressing down on the shaky dome of rock over her head. The mouldy scent of the earth filled her nostrils.

"You never told us what happened." The musky scent in Changeling's nose grew stronger.

"I do not like thinking about it. It was my own sister, who did it to me. She betrayed us to the Gordanians. She pretended to broker a peace treaty, but the cost of peace was that my parents give me over to the Gordanians as a prize. I was given to the Citadel; they are slavers. I was a great prize. They did not sell me, but rented me, a year at a time."

She shuddered, and then shuddered again. Her breathing began to increase.

"I was used in ways I do not like to remember. It was demeaning and humiliating. That is why I was so violent when I came to Earth. I had escaped, and the Gordanians, having captured me, were returning me to the Citadel for my next 'rental.' I would rather die than return to them."

Starfire hugged her legs even closer, squeezing her eyes shut. Hot tears forced their way from between her lids.

"When I was bad, they put me in The Box. It wasn't a real box. I could have punched my way out of any real box."

"Then what . . ." Changeling tried.

She spoke over him, her words hurried and choppy. "It was a series of overlapping forced fields, only as wide as my shoulders and as tall as me. They would throw a cover over it so that I was in the dark, and barely able to move . . ."

"Starfire," said Changeling.

"They tried to break my will to escape . . ."

"Starfire . . ."

"I will _not_ be caged . . . "

"Starfire!"

"Ever, ever again!"

She looked up, her lips pulled back in a grim snarl, her eyes in an unfocused, thousand-yard-stare.[2]

Changeling grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, hard.

"Starfire! You're _not_ at the Citadel. You're _not_ in the box! We have space to move, air to breathe, and our friends will get us out soon."

Her eyes lost their thousand-yard-stare and focused on his, jade into emerald. Her scent hit him like a hammer blow. She smelled of power. Of rising tides and rolling thunder. Of stampedes and of wildfire. There was no trace of zorkaberries or spring rain. She licked her lips and stepped closer. Her arms rose between his and twined around his neck. Her starbolt flickered out. The only light remaining in the tiny cavern came from her green-on-green eyes, which glowed with a phosphorescent fire. She pulled him close. She smelled of fear and passion and need.

"Star?" he whispered, confused.

No. Not really confused. He wasn't confused at all.

She leaned forward, eyes on his, and pressed her lips to his. She tasted of the rich, life-laden jungle and the endless veldt, of prey stalked by day and slain by night, of fresh hot blood, of victory and triumph. Her body was muscular and healthy under his paws. She would bear strong, powerful cubs. He didn't think again for a long time after that.

And it was, in fact, a long time later that he rolled away from her. His senses came back to him, and he felt the dirt and stone of the cavern floor under his naked buttocks. His stomach clenched, then would have fallen into his shoes, if he'd been wearing any. He swallowed nervously and his hands began to shake.

"Oh Jesus, Starfire, what have we done?"

No answer.

"Starfire?"

A starbolt flared, and lit the tiny cavern. Starfire sat before him, nude, reclining on one elbow. She ran her free hand through her thick mane of hair, combing out the worst of the snarls and scattering the dirt and small pebbles she'd picked up while squirming face-up on the cavern floor.

"You are all right?" she asked.

"All right?" he responded, "How can I possibly be all right? I've betrayed Raven!"

Starfire's eyes widened, then drooped sadly at the corners.

"Oh. Oh. I . . . had not thought of that."

"Thinking? You were thinking _at all?_ I know damn well _I_ wasn't! How could I _do_ such a thing?"

He squinted his eyes shut and turned away.

Starfire spoke into the silence. Hesitantly, she said, "Because you are my friend? And I turned to you in my fear?"

"What?"

"On my planet . . ."

She stopped.

"Do _not_ roll your eyes and stop the listening! I have worked _very _hard to fit in and be like an earth-girl. Mostly for Robin, but to be your friend, and to be part of this team and _nobody_ cares enough to listen when I talk about my home. Well_ this_ time you will do the listening, and you may not accept, but you will understand!"

"Okay, okay. Sorry. I'm upset, worried and scared. It's making me . . . short tempered."

Starfire calmed down, mollified. "Just listen. On my planet, sex is often 'the casual.' Well, far more so than among earthlings, anyway. On my homeworld, if I were upset or angry, or just needed sex, I might appeal to a friend."

"Most Americans, in fact, I think most Earth-people don't do that, Starfire."

"Do no you not think that I know that?" she snapped. "I am not the stupid. I only sound like an eight-year-old in _your_ language."

The alien girl took a deep breath and continued. "I have observed in humans that the reproductive urge is sometimes linked to anxiety, or danger. [3] In my people it is even more so. In our pre-history, our anthropologists tell us that when the primitive Tamaranian tribes went to war, the night before the battle there would be large celebrations with food, intoxicants and . . . indiscriminant intimacy. Even in modern times, it is the custom to spend the night before going to war with . . . people you are close to."

"Humans do that, too Starfire."

"Perhaps so," she replied. "But, you live muchly by your instincts, do you not?"

"I think maybe too much, right now."

"The fault," she said, "Is mine, I think. Your senses are very sensitive, and my pheromones, I think, unduly affected your . . . higher reasoning."

"No, Starfire, it took both of us to do this. I have to own my half of it. And figure out what I'm going to say to Raven."

Starfire began to gather her clothing and dress.

"Friend Changeling, must we say _anything?_ I confess that, now that I am thinking clearly, I do not look forward to telling Boyfriend Robin about this. No, not at all."

"Starfire, even if that wasn't dishonest, you can't conceal a surprise birthday party for ten minutes. There is _no way_ you're going to be able to hide a betrayal like this from Robin."

"You are right. Of course. I am just, afraid."

"Me, too."

The two friends finished gathering their clothes and sat, waiting quietly in the light of Starfire's starbolt. As the Changeling had predicted, in a couple more hours, a tiny obsidian marble manifested in the center of the chamber and rapidly expanded to a hemisphere that vanished in a swirl of power to reveal Raven.

Raven's vision cleared as she stepped from the void to find her two friends sitting at opposite ends of the oval-shaped chamber in the loose earth and rock. Each sat with their arms wrapped around their knees, slightly facing away from one another. Both were dirty and mussed, but in general appeared sound.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry you were stuck here so long. The cave-in was huge. It took Cyborg forever to find you, and Robin and I had to run down and lock up the Underminer before we could help look for you."

She paused. Neither of them spoke.

"Um," said Raven. "You guys ok?"

"We are unharmed," replied Starfire. "But . . . I am uncomfortable in the closed-in spaces, and wish to go home now please."

"But . . ."

"Just take us home, Raven," said Changeling. "We'll talk about it at home."

Raven frowned at her best friend and her boyfriend, then shrugged, and crossed her arms over her chest, and the Void took them all.

On the surface, Changeling broke Raven's PDA protocol, and hugged her, deep and hard. He felt the shape of his body against hers. So different from Starfire's but so much more right. Confused, Raven hung onto him as he leaned over and drew the scent of her into his nostrils. Endless night. Mystery. Books. Candles. And, of course, at the very bottom, the tiniest hint of brimstone. He let go.

"I'm headed back to the Tower. I'll see you guys back there."

Robin and Cyborg joined Raven in giving him a quizzical look as he morphed into an osprey and leaped into the air. Starfire, too, hopped into the air without speaking. The other three people looked at each other, shrugged, and headed home.

Cyborg was the last to arrive. He'd stopped in the garage to refuel the T-car. He could tell that something was wrong as soon as he came in the room. There was a tension in the air. This was clearly not going to be a normal post-mission debriefing. Starfire was standing by the big pay window, staring blankly at the Bay, while Changeling was sitting at one of the computer workstations, pointing and clicking in a distracted manner. Raven and Robin sat at the table, talking in low tones and clearing at a loss to understand why the other two were acting so oddly. Starfire turned as the doors opened to admit Cyborg. Changeling rose with clear reluctance and the two approached the briefing table.

"We need," Starfire began, "To do the 'reporting out' of what happened during the last mission.

Cyborg watched as Changeling and Starfire's eyes met and turned away.

"Uh-oh," he thought. "I don't like to look of this."

Starfire walked up behind Robin's chair and whispered in his ear.

"Now?" he asked, frowning.

She nodded in response. The Titan's leader frowned and rose from his chair, following Starfire to a spot over by the big window. At the same time, Changeling leaned over Raven and said, "We need to talk. C'mere."

The green man turned away and walked away from her, toward the opposite end of the room, near the door, as far away from the big window as possible. Raven's eyes narrowed as she rose to follow her boyfriend across the room.

Cyborg carefully seated himself at the conference table as he watched the two conversations going on at the far ends of the room. He felt more than a little bit like a fifth wheel as the two couples spoke in hushed tones, but at the same time, with the tension in the room, he was glad he was just a supporting player in whatever drama was about to unfold.

About that time, Raven's gravel voice cracked across the room. "What?" she said, harshly.

Changeling spoke quietly again. Cyborg could see the uncharacteristic stress in the green man's face. Raven closed her eyes, bit her lip, and then phased through the floor.

"Raven!" shouted Changeling, dropping to one need and pressing an open hand against the floor plates.

"Starfire!" Robin said, in a near-shout.

Cyborg's head whipped around. Robin's face had gone pale. He shut his eyes for a moment and his mouth flattened out to a thin line. Starfire stood before him, hands clasped in front of her, her lower lip between her teeth and fear in her eyes. Then the color in his face began to return. It flushed red. His eyes opened stared for a moment, and then narrowed.

"Excuse me," he said formally. "There will be no debrief this afternoon. In the event of an emergency, call me in my room. I have some research to do."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Starfire stared after him, a small frown on her face. Cyborg watched as Robin left the room without speaking further.

"You guys want to read me in on what just happened?" he said.

"Friend Beast Boy, would you . . . to the filling in? I find that I . . . need the space."

Starfire rose slowly from the floor and drifted into the corridor leading to the habitat level.

Cyborg turned to the green man and said, "Well."

Changeling turned to watch Starfire exit the room. "I tapped that."

"Wait, you what?"

We slept together. We made the two-backed beast. We rode the skin boat to tuna town. We did the deed of a thousand euphemisms. We . . ."

"I GET it," shouted the larger man. "What I don't get is . . . how you could hurt Raven that way."

"I didn't . . . I couldn't . . . I didn't set out to do it. It was an accident."

Cyborg lumbered closer, looming over the smaller man, his fingers flexing into fists. Changeling just stared up at him as the big man spoke.

"An accident? What, did you trip and fall and just happen to stick your dick in her _best friend?_ What the _fuck_ man?"

"I don't know. I don't even _like_ Starfire that way. I mean, she's hot and all, but . . ."

"So you don't want Starfire, and you just broke Raven's heart for what? Fun?"

"You know what? I don't need this shit right now. If you're not going to listen, fuck you."

The green man flickered, turned into a humming bird, and flashed out of the room.

Cyborg looked around the empty room. "Not where I expected the afternoon to end," he muttered, and headed for his room.

It was several hours later that there was a knock at the door.

"Yeah?" Cyborg answered.

Starfire's voice came through the door. "Friend Cyborg, may I come in?"

"Starfire, I really don't think . . ."

"Please," she interrupted. "Boyfriend Robin will not speak to me, I cannot find Friend Beastboy, and I am afraid to speak to Friend Raven. I need someone to talk to and you are the only one who will speak to me."

Cyborg sighed. On reflection, he totally did _not_ want a piece of this. But this is what friends are for. He opened the door.

"Come in, Star."

"I give you the thanks."

He sat back down and hooked up his charging leads.

"Okay Star. You wanted to talk. Spill."

"I am somewhat confused. I do not understand why everyone is so angry and not listening."

"What's to listen to, Star? Robin and Raven have the basic facts."

She frowned and stomped a tiny foot. "They do _not_ have the facts. Everyone is so busy being angry and rushing away. No one is doing the listening or the trying to understand."

"All right Starfire. I'm listening now. Tell it to me." He leaned back and crossed his arms.

Starfire looked at the cynical expression on his face and his defensive judgmental posture, but realized that he was her best hope of getting _anyone _to understand. So she laid it out for him. She started by explaining about the Tamaranian attitudes about sexuality. Then about fear and anxiety and how they heightened mating impulses in her people.

"Well," said Cyborg.

"Wait," she interrupted. "There is more. It is about . . . me, personally. I do not normally speak of these things. I am . . . ashamed."

And she told him about her sale, her imprisonment, the box, and finally, about her claustrophobia.

"And so you see, I think that it was my pheromones that . . . loosened Changeling's inhibitions. And I, I needed comfort."

"Well Star, that goes a long way to explaining what happened, but you have to understand . . ."

Starfire suddenly snapped.

"No! It is _you_ who have to understand! I have left my home. I have come over fourteen _trillion _miles to be here. I have given up a royal inheritance. Your foods are unfamiliar, and most are bland and tasteless. I spend my days and nights chasing criminals that I am not allowed to use my full power on, only to turn them over to law enforcement from whom they escape or who let them go! On Tamaran, we _kill them._"

Cyborg blinked and began to open his mouth, but Starfire was just getting warmed up.

"I have left behind not only my inheritance, but my responsibilities. My people are probably laboring under the yoke of my psychopathic sister because I choose to stay here with people who do not care to make the least effort to understand me!

She stepped forward and grabbed one of the lower edges of Cyborg's chassis, lifting him off of his feet.

"When I try to speak of my home, my people, my food, or my music, you and the rest of my friends do the rolling of the eyes and the changing of the subject. Well _this time_ you will understand. Down there, buried alive, in the dark, _I needed this._ And when I turned in my fear to friend Changeling, he helped me. Not because he wanted to hurt Raven. Not because he was greedy or selfish or the horn-dog. But because that is what he does. He _helps people._ Even freaky aliens he does not understand."

"Starfire, this is a lot to absorb all at once, but if I'm going to try, I'm going to need you to put me down."

She looked down and discovered that she had lifted the seven-hundred-pound man off of his feet. She blushed momentarily and set him back on his feet. The servos in his lower legs hissed as they took his weight. He sat back down. Starfire just waited, looking at him expectantly.

Cyborg weighed his words carefully. "Star, you make some very good points. You're right; we haven't made much effort to get to know you beyond the surface, or to understand where you come from. We don't really appreciate the price you have paid to be here with us. But this is huge. What's happened here isn't just a matter of not knowing which fork to use at dinner. Okay – you've had your say. Was there anything else?"

She shook her head.

"Did you want my advice, or did you just want to unload?"

"Advice please. I clearly do not fully appreciate why this is the big deal."

"This _is_ a big deal. I'm not going to try to speak for all humans. But Robin and Raven are going to regard this as a major betrayal of trust."

"But . . ."

"Star, you've had your say. You and Changeling have torn it off but good. And I'm not sure how to tell you to fix it. Except that both of Robin and Raven are going to need at least a little time to process how they feel. Let them sleep on it, and then try to tell them what you've told me tonight. And stay away from the Changeling."

Down by the waterside, Changeling skipped rocks and tried to think. It sucked that Robin was so bent. He had every right to be, but fixing things with Raven was Changeling's priority. And he didn't think they could be fixed. When he'd gone to his room her clothes had already been gone: candle, bell, incense burner and all. She'd left him. And he couldn't even work up a good mad about it.

"Maybe I can at least talk to Robin tomorrow," he thought, tossing another rock.

* * *

[1] (About the size of a full-grown African bull elephant. What a coincidence!)

[2] From Wikipedia: The thousand-yard stare or two-thousand-yard stare is a phrase coined to describe the limp, unfocused gaze of a battle-weary soldier, but the symptom it describes may also be found among victims of other types of trauma. A characteristic of post-traumatic stress disorder, the despondent stare reflects dissociation from trauma.

[3] True story. The subject is still very much open for debate, but most anthropologists will concede that there is a case to be made for the theory that danger makes people horny. I have dialed it up for Tamaranians and for the sake of the drama, but if you're really interested, I found a couple of studies at the American Physiological Association's web site that bear Starfire's reasoning out. psy /journals/psp/30/4/510/ psyc journals/abn/92/1/49/


	49. Changes

Shout Outs:

Thowell3 – Yeah, I didn't figure that one would please everyone. Hope you keep reading.

IanZakk – I'm glad you appreciate my effort. Thanks for sticking with me so long. I swear there is an end to this. I have two specific scenes left that I want to write, but I'm having to write my way to them.

Rawr3737 – Exciting, isn't it.

Shugokage – Starfire's primal nature, her phobia, and her people's comfortable sexuality all contributed. That and Titans persistent refusal to learn anything at all about where she was from.

Omeganian – I try. I hope I'm keeping it interesting.

The fat Lantern – I did do a little research. Just enough to justify my point. And then fan fiction dot net promptly broke my links out. Grrrr. I know they do it to make spam worthless, but still.

RandomDalmatian326 – Fixing this will take time, but I'm sure we can sort it out. And yeah – some of the moral ambiguity got removed because I put the Changeling in a position where he really couldn't do anything else and remain who he was.

Sadico – No, not right away, that's for sure. Marriage and children aren't in the cards for right now. Although, as far as the listing goes, I could just flip the category to "tragedy." That would be a lot less work. Kidding. I'm a happy ending addict.

Victorthe3rd – Thanks. One of the ideas about this that interested me is the idea of it being "an accident." Choices were made. But they still didn't deliberately set out on a journey with this destination in mind. It wasn't like that at all.

00closetFreak00 – Ah, but if you have any prior warning, it's not a sucker punch, now is it? Yeah – I see a way out of this. Now I just have to make it believable.

Paragon the Half-Dragon: I'm on it. It may just take a while.

TW – Technically, a cluster-f#$% has to involve someone with the rank of "Major." You know, the cluster of oak leaves? But yeah.

Caprichoso – I have an idea for how to write my way out of this, but I'm not sure if you guys will buy it. I haven't really thought about a lemon for this. I mean, I've thought about it. Who hasn't? But the specifics? Not really. We'll see if I have time and energy.

BloodRose101 – Thanks.

Lord Anubis Judge of the dead – Exactly! Too much fluff will clog your dryer vents.

V – Really? Nobody saw that coming?

Shingi echidna – I shall continue to write until the story is done.

Theluckyshot – Yeah, a lot of people are saying that. Trust me, I'm not going to make you wait any longer that I have to. I want to see what happens next, too.

Jimmy – I take the threats of bodily harm in the spirit in which I believe they were intended. Thank you. (I think)

JOHNXgambit – That was part of my intent. Every time Starfire starts talking about home, everyone rolls their eyes and flees the room. The rest of the team needs to understand that they're not being very nice when they actively pursue ignorance like that.

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne – Welcome to the party. I hope you enjoy the story.

Egg1 – I didn't kill them. They're much tougher than that. Trust me, I have glue, clamps, screws, and galvanized repair straps. I can fix it.

Autodufantome – Glad you liked it. Good to hear from you.

Chowbo – I'm getting that a lot.

Tatsumarusmith – Thank you. It's been fun. I'm glad you enjoyed the reasons for Starfire's choices. I tried to make it believable. As to Nightwing? Well, funny you should ask . . .

Short But Deadly – I'm glad you enjoyed it. You're right – it's been my experience as well. Most romances are written by women. My perspective is a little different, but I think it's making for a good read. But then, I don't typically hear from people who read the first chapter, say "this bites," and never come back. Been my pleasure.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, I feel that I have been adequately chastised by your wrath. I didn't think the last chapter was going to be popular. But as I've said before, I write from life. People screw up. Circumstances matter. In a dark hole in the ground, driven by fear, intoxicated by erotic scents and utterly unable to perceive the shadow of the future, Changeling and Starfire made a couple of selfish decisions that they would never had deliberately planed out in the normal light of day. But as has been pointed out in the comments, this is an adventure/drama, not a tragedy. I'm a happy ending addict, and I do have a plan for sorting this out. I just hope I can make it believable for you.

Looking ahead, tonight we have a couple more bad decisions. Some are driven by gutlessness, others by fear and hurt, and still others by growth and change. Starfire will break out a power not seen since "Go!" Raven finds a friend in an unexpected place.

I've decided that I need to apply a little structure and discipline to this project, so I'm setting a deadline: July 31, 2013. That will mark just over one year that I've been on this project. I'm going to try to close up this one on or before that date.

Wish me luck.

"Who knows what Evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

To say that it was "tense" around Titan Tower for the next two days was a gross understatement. Starfire and Changeling never spoke. When they chanced to be in a room together, they would make eye contact, turn away, and leave. Robin was in and out of his office/bedroom on occasion, but was mostly out of sight as well. And no one, but no one went into or out of Raven's room. The only person who everyone would still talk to was Cyborg, who desperately wanted to stay out of the middle of everything. We don't always get what we want.

Cyborg was lifting weights in the gym when Changeling approached him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I'm sorry for the mess," said Changeling.

"Dude, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," said Cyborg as he racked the weights and sat up on the bench.

"I know. But you're the only one that's listening. I tried to talk to Robin again this morning, but he just said 'What do you want,' and stared at me. His face was like stone and his voice was like ice. "

"It's like he's a whole other person," responded Cyborg. "It's not just you. I've seen it too."

"I can't put my finger on it, but I've seen it somewhere before."

"Oh, I can. Imagine him a foot taller and all in black, with a cape."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

Cyborg rose and wiped the sweat from the human parts of his face and neck.

"I'm going to grab a shower. He said he wanted to see me at 2:00."

Earlier in the day, Starfire determined to take the vorshack by the horns and talk to her friends. She would start with the Changeling. She took a deep breath and knocked on his door. The door slid open a crack.

"Star? What do you want?"

"Friend Changeling, I need to talk to you. I am all alone except for Friend Cyborg, who wishes to 'stay out of the line of fire.' Please."

The Changeling closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Star, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you, but . . . if there's any way to fix things with Raven, I have to try. She still won't speak to me, but right now us spending any time together is . . . going to be misunderstood. I'm your friend, but we can't be close. Not right now. I'm sorry."

He slid the door closed in her face.

Starfire closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Then she braced herself, squared her shoulders, and went to Robin's room. She knocked on the door.

"What?"

"Robin?" she said, tentatively. "I need to talk to you. Please."

"Starfire, no. I'm really not up for that right now. I'm sorry. I'm working on a project and I'm trying to deal with – things."

"But I . . ."

"No."

She lowered her hand and turned away. Eyes almost closed and breathing very shallow, she paced down the hall to the next level, and faced Raven's door. The letters on the bronze nameplate flickered in the low lighting in the hallway. RAVEN.

With great trepidation, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately a gravelly voice spoke.

"Go away."

"Friend Raven, it is I, Starfire, your friend. This cannot go on as it has. We must talk if we are to clean up this mess."

The response was crispy enunciated and spoken with great precision.

"Go. Away."

"But Friend Raven . . . . "

_"GOAWAY!"_ One word. Loud. Harsh. Savage.

Starfire pressed her lips together. Her eyes narrowed and she seized the doorframe in her hands. Her fingers tightened and her back muscles flexed as she heaved against the steel and duralloy of Titan Tower.

Nothing. Apparently, far from Boundless Confidence, she had no belief in herself at all. At least not about this. Her eyes squinted shut. She pulled and strained. The tendons on her neck popped out. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. And then tears began to squeeze themselves out from between her eyelids. She tore her hands away from the doorframe and stepped back. She faced the door and shouted.

"jIH 'oH Koriand'r vo' Tamaran! jIH DIchDaq ghobe' taH rur vam! jIH ghaj ta'pu' Daq SoH 'ach jIH 'oH Daq 'oH chugh SoH neH Dochmey SoH ghoS Daq jIH!"[1]

Then she turned on her heel and left the doorway, walking with a purpose.

Cyborg approached Robin's room. The Titan's leader had asked to meet with him privately.

"I hope this isn't another 'sharing of the feelings' like I had with Starfire. That'd be weird."

He knocked on Robin's door.

"It's me," he said.

The door hissed open. Cyborg was immediately startled. Robin's room normally had a few Spartan pieces of furniture. A bed, desk, and table, together with a bedside table and built in closet. Typically every flat surface of the room was covered with paper as Robin tracked the criminal element in the city, starting with Slade Wilson. Instead of all this, there was almost nothing. There was only a small stack of folders on the desk. The bed was neatly made. Not a single book remained on the shelves. All of the clippings, papers, and logic chains had been taken down and put away somewhere. Instead, there was a large, man-sized cylinder.

"Hi, Cyborg. You're just in time."

Cyborg turned toward Robin's voice. He almost didn't know him. For the first time since they'd met, Robin wasn't wearing his hair up in that spikey, gel-do he'd always favored. Instead, his hair was parted down the middle and fell just below his jawline. It was longer than Cyborg had expected.

"Hey Rob, what's up?"

Robin lifted a remote and pressed a button. There was a hiss and a post-industrial smell wafted through the room as the cylinder began to open.

"Just finishing up a little project I've been working on in my spare time for a while now."

The cylinder rotated to reveal a doorway. Inside hung a black bodysuit and harlequin mask. Robin grabbed the garments and stepped behind and exotic-looking carved wooden screen and began to remove his fighting togs.

"New suit?"

"Oh yeah. It's nomex with a duralloy weave and nano-tube fibers. It's fireproof, resistant to small arms fire, and will keep me warm if I'm submerged in water down to thirty five degrees. Yet it breathes like Egyptian cotton."

There was the sound of a zip-closure on the other side of the screen.

"Rob, I'm a little surprised you're working on a new suit with all that's been, you know, going on. I figured you wanted to talk about it."

"Talk about our feelings? Shall we braid each other's hair, too? Oh, wait –"

"Very funny."

There was a pause, and Robin's harlequin mask was also draped over the wooden screen.

"No, seriously, Rob . . ."

"Seriously?" said Robin. "I've never been more serious in my life."

He stepped from behind the screen. Robin wore a skin-tight bodysuit, black with a stylized triangular bird in royal blue on his chest. In place of the harlequin mask, he wore a sharp, angular mask that shielded his eyes. He stepped over to the table and picked up the small stack of file folders.

"Rob, what's going on?"

"Walk with me. I have something else to show you."

Robin picked up a small travel bag, also black, and slung it over one shoulder. The two men exited the room. The light went out as Robin closed and sealed the door.

"The security seal? Robin, what the hell?"

Robin smiled said, "I just finished my research project, and I've got news. There's a reason we've had time for all the drama that's gone down lately."

He headed for the garage level, Cyborg in tow.

"What's that?"

"We have time for it."

"'We have time for it?' What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's simple," Robin replied. "We haven't heard from Slade Wilson in three years. Brother Blood is still in jail. The Brain is still canned under Paris. Trigon is shattered into pieces and still hasn't reassembled himself. Raven assures me that will take him at least a thousand years. Madame Rouge is still stuck in Limbo, Monsieur Mallah is incarcerated on Devil's Island, and Ravager is working for S*H*I*E*L*D these days."

"That is pretty much the entire A-list," Cyborg nodded. "No much left but the lamers."

"Exactly. So we're done here."

"Done?"

"We've cleaned up the city."

"Control Freak ran amuck just last week!"

"Yes, and you and Raven shut him down with no help from the rest of us after only a half-day. The whole team is no longer needed here."

The two men rode the elevator to the garage level. The door opened and Robin walked to the back corner of the room. There was a covered bike in the corner. He pulled the cover off.

"That wasn't there last week," Cyborg observed.

"New project, Robin smiled.

The bike was matte black with blue highlights, and looked like an angry wasp.

Robin reached into a pocket and took the keys to the R-cycle out. He walked over to the cherry red motorcycle and stuck the key into the ignition, then walked away, leaving it there. The key fob, a brilliant scarlet leather disc with an embossed yellow 'R' swung back and forth at the end of its tether.

"Rob," Cyborg asked, "Talk to me."

"Blüdhaven."

"Sounds like a dish German sausages."

"It's a city. East coast. It's currently rotten with organized crime. There are at least five syndicates currently competing for control of vice in the city. But there's a new boss in town, looking to take over the whole thing. I don't know much about him yet, but he goes by the name of Blockbuster. Small businessmen are paying almost all of their profits to extortionists and protection rackets. Normal people hide in their homes, only coming out to buy food or go to work. Fathers lock their daughters away to keep them safe from pimps and procurers. The local police department is rife with corruption."

"You're leaving."

The younger man shrugged. "It seems like a good time to make a transition."

Robin handed Cyborg the file folders. "These are our, I mean . . . These are _your_ open cases. I typed up all of my notes. They're all going to be pretty straightforward. I figure you're going to want to select the new members for your own team, but I'm leaving you short-handed. So I've invited Kid Flash and Jinx to come stay for a few weeks. They're looking to settle down. You may want to take them on on a probational basis. But that will be your call."

"Listen Rob, if the situation in Blüdhaven is as bad as you say it is, let's take the whole team. You're right: it's been quiet around here for a while. We could use a chance of scenery, and we could help you roll up this Blüdhaven business quick."

"Jump City was never supposed to be a home, Cyborg. It was just a stopover on my way to a solo career. It's time to get back to that. Don't worry. Blüdhaven is only an hour from Gotham City by air, so I'll have backup if I need it."

"Rob, this is _your_ team. You put it together, and they'd follow you to hell."

"Your team now."

Robin threw his leg over the wasp-bike and picked up a jet-black helmet with a tinted faceplate.

"If you need me, you can contact me through nightwing –at- batclan dot org. Or follow #nightwing on Twitter."

He threw his weight against the kickstarter and the new bike came to life. The R-cycle had a low rumble that could, under load, turn into a roar. The new bike moaned. It sang a high-pitched song as some interior gyro came up to speed.

"And it's not Robin. Not anymore. Call me Nightwing."

Nightwing closed the visor on his helmet and twisted the accelerator on the handle of the bike. The machine's high pitched whine suddenly dropped to a roar. Flames shot out of the back of the pipes and it left a strip of rubber on the garage floor as it shot up the ramp to the surface of Titan Island and away from Titan Tower. He headed for the interstate highway, his face to the rising sun. Neither man noticed the green light that flared briefly on the rooftop.

Ten Minutes Ago:

Starfire walked with a purpose to her room. There, she grabbed her smallest backpack and grabbed a few keepsakes. Pictures. A couple of knickknacks. Her hand hovered as she agonized over an emerald necklace Robin had given her the last Christ-mass. He did not normally spend lots of money on presents, preferring to express his affection with small, well-thought out presents that showed how well he knew her. But he had been unable to resist the necklace with its central pendant: an eight pointed star with golden flames. A star fire that perfectly matched her eyes.

Her mouth firmed up. "I am not doing the leaving of him. He has done the leaving of me. She snatched the necklace and threw it into her bag. She picked up a pencil and scrawled a quick note.

Then she went to the roof of Titan Tower and took one last look around the city. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Slowly she raised one arm high over her head and made a fist. Nothing happened at first. She bit her lip and concentrated harder. Still nothing. Starfire took a deep breath to clear her mind and focused on the happiest moment in her life since she had come to Earth. It was far, far from this spot, across the great ocean, in an office park of all places. In the pouring rain and covered in comic book printers ink. Robin had finally broken free of his preconceptions and had kissed her.

Starfire's feet left the rooftop while an emerald-jade green glow surrounded her. This precise color had only been seen in the night sky above Jump City one other time: the night Starfire had come to Earth. Starfire rose swiftly through the atmosphere, the viridian nimbus surrounding her growing both brighter and more opaque. She continued to accelerate. As she approached the upper layers of the atmosphere, she began to feel the bite of the cold upper air. She didn't worry. Soon she would be surrounded by endless insulating vacuum. She was now moving so fast she was beginning to leave a trail of agitated ions behind her, her contrail stretching up, up, and up. She began to see the curve of the horizon, and still she accelerated. No longer held back by even the thinnest of the Earth's atmosphere, Starfire flashed past the Lunar orbit path and into interplanetary space. Still accelerating, Starfire patiently waited the ten minutes it took her to reach .99C, right up to the relativistic barrier. At that acceleration, she was able to clear the edge of Earth's solar system in only a few minutes. Once safely in interstellar space, well beyond where any backlash could harm the inhabitants of the planet she had just departed, Starfire did something else.

English doesn't have a word for what came next. The closest Tamaranian term means – change. Starfire _transitioned. _It was not going to be just a quick trip to the corner store, but it would not take so long that she would get too uncomfortable. There was a rainbow flare, followed by an emerald-jade contrail pointed toward the Vega system.

With nothing to keep her tethered to Earth, Princess Koriand'r was going home.

The next morning, Cyborg woke from his sleep cycle, spilling the folders he's fallen asleep going over. They served to remind him that he was in charge now.

"Great," he thought. "I guess I'll tell the troops at breakfast." After a quick shower and shave, he contemplated omelets and waffles while heading for the door. As it slid open, he found Changeling standing there, clearly debating about knocking. Cyborg looked him over and sighed. Travel boots. Civilian clothes. Jacket. Stuffed gym bag over one shoulder.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

Changeling rubbed the back of his head. "Um, yeah, I guess so."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Shame's part of it. I haven't seen Raven in three days, but I can feel her hate for me radiating through the walls of the Tower. I can't look Robin in the eye, and Starfire and I are walking around each other like a couple of criminals with our hands caught in a cookie jar. I can't live like this."

"I think you're exaggerating just a little bit."

"Maybe. But Robin won't speak to me, and I can't bring myself to speak to Starfire."

"Well, I can help with a little of that. Rob beat you the punch. He left last night."

Changeling goggled. "He what?"

"He hung up his mask and cape, slipped into a set of black longjohns, said "Call me Nightwing," and set out racing the sunrise. I've got his e-mail address if you want it."

"Maybe later," said Changeling. He thought for a moment. "No, I've already decided and this is for the best. Raven'll get better if I'm not around rubbing myself in her face all the time."

"You sure it's smart? I mean, _you _deciding what's best for _Raven?_," Cyborg thought. But he said nothing, and just waited.

"What?" said Changeling.

"There are things to be said," thought Cyborg, "But he ain't ready to hear 'em."

The big man said instead, "You gonna head back to Midway City?"

"Run home to Mom and Dad, you mean?" snorted Changeling. "They'd want to know why, and when I told them, they wouldn't be impressed. No. I'm going to open up my birth parent's house in Los Angeles. There have been no meta-humans in the city since the Champions called it quits. It's getting a little intense down there. LAPD could use some help and I really need to feel like a good guy right about now."

"I think you're making a mistake, but I'm not your momma. Keep in touch."

"I kinda feel bad. If Robin's already gone, I'm leaving you really short-handed."

Cyborg lifted the small stack of folders. "This is the _sum total_ of all of our work. Plus, Kid Flash and Jinx are coming in for a while. We'll be fine."

The two men fist-bumped, and Changeling headed for the stairs to the roof. It was later that morning that Cyborg found Starfire's note.

"Please take care of Silkie. – Starfire"

"Some team," he thought. "I hope Kid Flash and Jinx get here soon. If anything comes up, it's just me, unless I can pry Raven out of her room."

It was late that night that the vertijet came winging in over the Jump City skyline. It came in low and slow, the basso throb of its engines lost in the murmur of late night traffic and the sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline. It came to a halt and lowered itself onto the landing pad for Titan Tower. A shadowy figure climbed out of the craft and walked to the Tower door. The door was locked, but the dark figure confidently keyed in a previously unused code and the lock opened. The nearly empty Tower echoed under the newcomer's footsteps as they approached the habitat level. The figure paused for a moment outside of the door that read "Changeling." Gloved fingers toyed with the seal for a moment and a bowed head shook back and forth. Then the figure went on to the door labeled "Raven." A pressed Raven's buzzer.

"What?" came the gravelly voice from within.

The buzzer sounded again.

"Go. Away."

The buzzer sounded a third time. Agitated footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. It hissed open.

Raven opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, startled.

"Rita?"

The older woman leaned forward and swept Raven into a Starfire-like hug.

"Oh Raven," she said next to Raven's ear. "I'm so sorry it didn't work out! Steve and I were pulling for you, too."

The taller woman almost lifted Raven off of her feet. Raven was pressed up against her and her emotions washed over Raven in a flood. Raven's eyes flew open and her pupil's contracted to pinpricks. Her hair stood on end and her heart raced. She smelled Rita's perfume (Chanel #5) and felt the strength in her arms around her. Under normal circumstances she would have stood stiffly in place until Rita relaxed and then pulled herself free as quickly as possible while still being polite.

But Raven had never felt a mother's arms around her. She'd lost her best girlfriend. She'd lost her lover. She'd spent the past three days meditating, working out, and doing everything she could to keep her pain under control. Rita's outpouring of love and sympathy had caught her completely by surprise, and her defenses collapsed.

Raven burst into tears and buried her face in Rita's chest. The two snowflakes in Raven's room shattered, as well as a mirror, two lamps, a statue, and a book. Torn pages fluttered down in confetti-like shards, dusting the women's shoulder like snowfall. She cried, perhaps for the first time in her life, with great heaving sobs.

"GARFEEGN CHEEBED NONBE!"

Fortunately, Rita's years in Hollywood, comforting younger starlets left her fluent in "hugmumble."

"Raven, dear, I would never tell you that what you say isn't true, but it _can't_ have been that simple. He's loyal to a fault. It's what got him kicked out of the Doom Patrol, and has almost gotten him killed over a dozen times."

She patted Raven's heaving shoulders.

"NEED DNPT WIF BYE BEST FEEND!"

Tears and snot deposited themselves on Rita's trenchcoat in copious quantities as Raven vented her hurt and her anger.

"NOW CLUD NE DI DIS TEH MEH!"

"That's it sweetie – get it all out. It'll be okay – you'll see."

"NOH! NOOFING BILL FEE BOKEH AGN!"

Out of Raven's line of sight, Rita rolled her eyes and sighed. Then she eased Raven over to the bed, never letting go of the younger woman. Raven cried hard for about twenty minutes. Then, the worst of the storm over, Rita carefully let go, saying, "What say I lose this coat and stay a while, eh?"

Raven pulled away and focused on Rita. She was still wearing an overcoat, hat, and driving gloves. And was looking a little flushed at the indoor temperatures.

"Ah, sorry . . . "

"Not at all dear. Are you feeling a little better?"

Rita took off her hat and gloves, and draped her coat over the back of Raven's desk chair. She looked at Raven critically.

"Are you feeling a little better?"

Raven thought for a moment. "Surprisingly, yes."

"Very good. Come with me."

The two women proceeded up to the kitchen. This late at night, only the low nightlights were burning. Rita turned on a small task light that lit the stove and started rooting around in Raven's tea cabinet.

"I don't want any . . . "

"Chamomile for your current state of mind, given the time of night. You'll split this pot with me, and then go to sleep. Tomorrow morning it's going to be the Dragon Eye Oolong," Elastagirl looked Raven in the eye, daring her to say anything else.

"Um, ok."

Raven watched, bemused, as Rita set out a semi-formal British low-tea service. When both women were seated comfortably, mugs in hand and cookies within arm's reach, Rita spoke again.

"Now – tell me about it. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."

"Before I do that, I need to know something. Why are you here?"

"I'm here because you need a friend."

"I do. But how did you know that?"

Rita looked at Raven speculatively, and weighed her words with great care.

"Garfield called me. He wouldn't give me any details, but said that the two you had broken up, and you couldn't talk to Starfire, and didn't think you should be alone."

Raven frowned. "So he called his MOM to come represent him?"

Rita frowned back. "You're a bright girl. Try listening. He didn't ask me to do anything for him. He just said you needed a friend."

"You're his _mom._ Shouldn't you be on . . . well, _his_ side?"

Rita sipped her tea and spoke. "Raven, how many freaks, I mean meta-humans, do you suppose there are on this planet? Not included the Amazons on Themiscyra or the mole-man, or anyone in a closed society. I just mean, well, meta-humans who live with normal people? The way we do?"

"I hadn't thought about it."

Rita replied, "The Justice League is the largest, with about two hundred and fifty members. The Avengers, if you count everybody who's ever _been_ and Avenger, are probably almost as big. Most large cities have about a half dozen. Sometimes they look like a team, sometimes they're scattered singles. But if you add it all up, there are fewer than five thousand of us on a planet with five billion people. And that includes the villains."

Raven blinked. "What's that have to do with . . . "

"Raven, if my tribe is that small, I need all the friends I can get. Yes, Garfield is my son, and I love him. That doesn't mean that I don't care for you, too, and want to help you. Being on Garfield's side does not in any way, hinder me from being on your side, too. So relax. I'm not here to gather info on you for Garfield, or try to build him up, or get you to take him back. I'm here because you need a friend, and I thought we were friends."

"We were. Are. I just didn't expect this."

"Then if we're friends, spill."

And so, pausing every now and then, Raven laid it out for her. From the appearance Underminer to finding Changeling and Starfire in their tiny cavern space to their dramatic reveal right before the debriefing. Raven left nothing out. And while she didn't paint Garfield any worse that he was, she didn't sugarcoat him for his Mother, either. Rita was a great listener. She sipped her tea, nodded, and mad uh-huh noises at all the right times, but did not interrupt or ask any questions. After just a few minutes, Raven wound down. She looked away from the older women, shyly, unsure of what was coming next.

"So what now?"

"Now," Rita replied, "We go to bed."

"I thought you'd have advice, or comments, or something."

"When you're ready to hear them, I might. But right now you're not ready, and I need to sleep on it. And so do you."

"I haven't really been sleeping."

"You'll sleep now. You feel better, don't you."

Raven blinked. "Yes, actually, I do."

"Get some sleep. It really will all look better in the morning."

The next morning dawned both bright and early. Raven went to the roof for her morning meditation for the first time since "the incident." When she was done, she came down for breakfast to find Cyborg and Rita at the table.

"Good morning," she said. The others replied, subdued.

"Um," Raven said, "Where is everybody?"

Cyborg looked at her over his coffee. "Gone. Showing great emotional maturity and adult coping skills, they've moved out. At least, I assume so."

"What?!"

"Robin bailed last night while you were still forted up in your room. He left behind all of his 'Robin' gear packed in storage, said, 'Call me Nightwing,' and headed out for the east coast."

Raven was startled to say the least. Her psychic bond with Robin was something she normally kept suppressed out of respect for his privacy. But she normally had an involuntary approximation of his general sense of self. She hadn't heard a thing out of him in days. Opening her mind, she touched the tiny thread that connected them. It was very vague and very tenuous. Just the feeling of contentment, anticipation, miles and miles of open desert, and Steppenwolf's "Born to Be Wild" blaring on an in-helmet audio system.

"He's gone all right. He's already a long way off, and fading fast."

"According to the security system, Starfire left at almost the exact same time, from the roof, and straight up. North American Radar Defense confirmed that an unscheduled launch matching her flight profile achieved orbit sometime last night shortly after Robin left, accelerated to the edge of the solar system, and then vanished. I think she's gone home to the Vega system, and Tamaran."

Raven blinked. "Did she take Garfield with her?"

"No. Like Robin, he checked out with me. He's gone to Los Angeles. Of the Titans, only you and I remain. Robin, well, Nightwing said to expect Jinx and Kid Flash in a day or so to help out while we decide what our new direction is going to be. Unless you're going to bail on me, too, that is."

Raven shook her head. "Where would I go?"

"I'm glad to hear it. Listen, I'm going to down to my office and try to get my head around these case files and see what the next steps are. If you could make sure the guest rooms are ready for Jinx and Kid Flash –"

Raven made a face. "They'll only need one."

"Right. Anyway – keep me in the loop if you leave the Tower. With only two of us, we need to keep in close touch."

As Cyborg left the room, Raven looked over at Rita, who was drinking her coffee and reading a copy of the Jump City Jump-Up over the remains of an omelet.

"Um, so, what now? Will you be heading home or . . . I mean, I probably won't spent a whole lot more time crying into your chest, so . . ."

"You still need a friend Raven. This morning, it's going to be retail therapy."

Raven winced. "Starfire always wanted to drag me shopping. If it's all the same to you, I don't want to be reminded of her just now."

Rita frowned. "Starfire also eats and breathes. Do you plan to give those up, too?"

* * *

[1] I was unable to find enough Tamaranian. So I substituted Klingon. (Badly) Roughly, Starfire is saying, "I am Starfire of Tamaran! I will NOT be treated this way! I may have done you the wrongness, but at least I am trying to FIX it! When you are ready to fix it, YOU may come to ME."


	50. A Day with Mom

Update (2/13/2013): TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne had a _great_ idea, and I couldn't resist it. Accordingly, I have implemented it. The new material is near the end of the chapter, in Raven's conversation with Rita at the coffee house after the fight with the bank robbers.

ShoutOuts:

Darkness On The Rise: No, no. The story does not end here. I've got a couple of plot twists yet to go, and at least one marriage proposal to drag you people through before I quit.

Shadico – Not an argument. Just a confrontation. A sharing of the facts – experienced older woman to novice female person like. I can't imagine Raven OR Rita being foolish enough to throw down with one another. The city is too fragile for that nonsense.

RandomDalmatian326 – You're right. Nightwing is going to enjoy the simplicity of swinging from a grapnel line through grimy streets, putting the beat down on thugs and busting up racketeers. Nice, simple things. Things that don't make your _feel. _Changeling isn't just giving Raven her space – he's finding a way to feel like a good guy again. He feels like a villain, and doesn't like the way it feels, _at all_. Cyborg did an awesome job of not getting any drama on him. I hope leaping back and declaring "I'm Switzerland" doesn't come back to bite him on the ass. Rita is, as I'm sure you can guess, going to offer perspective. But no advice. As to affairs? Well, this is certainly "infidelity." But to me, an "affair" connotes planning, deception, and intent.

Thoewll3 – Well, it certainly was a bad move on Starfire and Changeling's part. And I've got to admit, I'm uncertain of my ability to make this right and have it be believable. But I have a roadmap, and I'm going to follow it. It may make you say "aw, c'mon, who acts like that?" but I'm gonna follow it.

St Rhon – She tried, but I think a little patience would be in order. But a lot of Starfire's patience has already been used up. "Humans. Why must dealing with their feeling be so _hard?_" Yes – you'd think Nightwing would have been a little more broad-minded. Like Bruce, loyalty is his big thing. Even after all this time, he's having a hard time wrapping his head around how _different_ Starfire is. I'm glad you noticed that flip with the comics. Part of the problem fanfic has with Starfire's culture is that Tamaranian culture was always treated as comic, and as I've written this, I come to feel that that wasn't really fair to Starfire, so I'm hoping to explore a little of it and give it more gravitas than it was given on the show. And you're right. The changes on Tamaran are going to rock Starfire to her core.

NicoleThePenguin – I haven't broken up the team. I'm merely – load testing it. Do you _really _think that the Beast is going to give up _MINE_ just because The Other is feeling a little skittish?

Guest – Thanks. I moved a little fast, I thought, and I was unsure about scattering the team so far away, but the story kinda drove itself once I started.

Alister Nightfoot – It was easy to find the Klingon. If any scholars of Kingonaase actually read it though, it will probably give them a headache. I just threw my dialogue into a Kingon/Terran Standard translator I found on the web and cut and pasted. I have no idea if it's actually structurally valid.

Ominous Footstep – I know. I feel like Jack L. Chalker, the way I torture the characters I'm so fond of. But you can't have dramatic tension without conflict.

Guest – Oh, NicolethePenguin knows.

Unicorn819 – Planned? Not really. I thought a tragic ending would make for a really dramatic exit. (Just messing with you. I actually do have a plan. I hope the team follows it.)

TheLuckyShot – Actually, yes, there will be a moderate time skip. I'm not planning to drag everbody through Starfire, Nightwing, and Changeling establishing themselves in the new venue, or Cyborg and Raven trying to integrate new Titans into the team. But it won't be a long one.

Victorthe3rd – You did? I didn't. I was actually surprised.

Guest – Yeah. I thought about a halting confession, but since we'd already been through that with Garfield and Starfire, I thought something simpler would work with Cyborg.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – Because of my awesome, 7eet melodrama slinging skilz. (I'm really humble, too!) Hey. You asked.

ChaosMuramasa13 – Sorry. Into every adventure/drama a little rain must fall.

JOHNXgambit – He is, indeed. I wish he would just quit catching me lifting his dialogue. Yes, remember, there was a two hear time skip after Winter Break. Raven spent that time continuing to acclimate. I know it's a drastic change. But if I don't let her grow, it gets tedious.

Azarune – I'm writing . . . I'm writing. (Slave driver. Grumble)

IanZakk – I'm glad you're staying with me. But you can spend as much time as you like telling me how great I am. Really. I'll read it. Honest.

00cLosetFreak00 – Well, dude, I didn't say I'd fix it RIGHT NOW did it. Nooooo – there is no drama without conflict. And thanks. I'm actually fluent in hubmumble myself, so that part was pretty easy.

Crimsonsnight – So, thank you for the time and energy you put into your reviews. I did read every one of them, I promise. There were interesting, flattering, uplifting and inspiring. But if I respond to each one of them individually, the next chapter will take a week longer. So instead, I will hit the high points. I try to write from life, and we're molded as people by what happens to us, so that is how I mold my characters. I work really hard at not being cheesy, but sometimes I can't resist a little melted Velveeta on my elbow mac. "Already a different universe?" Dang. I was hoping to grow Raven organically. I probably went too fast. Sorry. Yeah – For most animals, scent is the most important sense, and for Changeling it gives him a unique perception of Raven. Nobody, not even Raven, knows that she has a hint of Brimstone in her scent. That's for him alone. Jane's not much older than the Titans, but she has a lot more Life Experience 'cause she doesn't spend her days and night keeping villains locked up. In chapter 25 she was WORSE than before she started trying to let her emotions out. She was so focused on not zapping her date that she shut down ALL of her feelings in the process. Which she was told NEVER to do. The nightmares chapter was my favorite. Cyborgs abuse of Garth was for Cyborg's benefit. It didn't affect Garth because Cyborg was unwilling to damage him before a fight in which he would be needed, and Garth knew that. I'm glad you like my treatment of Nevermore. I'm trying to put a different spin on it.

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne - If Garfield had gotten drunk on a trip to Vegas and slept with a stranger, he might have not told her. But he knew, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that Starfire would be unable to conceal it.

Egg1 – I know. I did move really fast in separating the team. But I couldn't face chapter after chapter of them drifting slowly apart.

TW – I know. I can, like, trip over trash cans in real life. I can fix this. I just don't know if I can make it believable.

Shugokage – I considered emptying the Tower completely. But Vic OWNS it and Raven has no place else to go.

Guest (Chapter 38) – Maybe I'll write another lemon for the make-up sex.

Guest – (Chapter 2) Yeah, I know. My action scenes are weak. It's not my strong suit, mostly because I find them boring. The interesting parts are where people interact, not where asses get kicked.

Guest – (Chapter 23) I had great fun with the shoulder angels. I got the idea from a Titan's short.

Author's Notes:

Well, judging from the commentary, the last chapter went over better than I thought it would. It wasn't a particularly fun chapter to write, but as I've already mentioned in a number of the Shout Outs, we can't have Dramatic Tension without conflict. And I've already given both Raven and Garfield near-fatal wounds. So I had to do something different to separate them. Now I get to reunite them, and there will be make-up sex. In the short term, Rita is going to explain both the nature of men, and how malls are for teenagers, and where REAL women shop. Looking farther out, we're going to visit Blüdhaven and see how Nightwing's one-man war against organized crime shakes out. And there will be a visit to Tamaran, of course. Things aren't going very well there _at all_.

Jump City, CA:

Raven blinked her eyes, trying to adjust to the bright sunshine. She and Rita were halfway through the day, and halfway through working their way through the fashion district. True to her word, Rita had dragged Raven out of bed and thrown her in the shower bright and early. When Raven had headed toward the mall, Rita had raised an eyebrow and asked, "What are we, teenagers? Adult women don't shop in malls. We shop _downtown._"

Raven paused for thought at that. Somewhere along the line, people had stopped saying "Teen Titans" and began just saying, "Titans." Even Changeling, the youngest, was in his early twenties. Raven was slightly older, while Cyborg was almost thirty.

"Maybe," she thought, "it's time to grow up a little."

She looked at the mountain of retail goods stacked next to her and Rita. By mid-morning, Raven had given up trying to juggle the mountain of boxes and bags containing Rita's purchases and had begun generating a black energy disk that followed them from store to store like a silent Sherpa on an Everest expedition. She'd tried to explain to Rita that she very rarely wore street clothes, and now that she was no longer dating anyone, she'd even less need, but the older woman has simply waved her objections away with, "That's not the point," and dragging her off to another store. Raven had tried on skirts, pants, tops, dresses, "intimates," and just now, shoes. Raven had been making forays in to exploring her "girly" side, but did not get the big deal about shoes. Rita had been appalled when Raven had told her that she only needed six pairs of shoes, not counting the twenty pairs of elf boots she used for her fighting boots.

"I wonder," she thought, "If Cyborg would be willing to knock out one of my bedroom walls into the next room so that I could have more closet space?"

"Rita," said Raven as the waiter dropped off their salads, "What's the point of all this? How is it relevant?"

Rita bit into the Waldorf salad. "Well Raven, do you feel better?"

Raven opened her mouth to say, "Don't be ridiculous" and stopped herself.

"I – I do," she said, startled. "That makes no sense. Nothing changed."

Rita just smirked and applied herself to the salad. Raven sat grumpily.

"Women with their arms full of shopping bags have been a TV trope since the 50's. It's sexist, it's offensive, and I feel like someone has hacked my brain." Raven sat back grumpily.

The older woman rolled her eyes. "All right, my little Rationalist. Here's _my _theory. Back during pre-history, while the boys were out trying to kill mammoths with pointed sticks, _our_ job was to slip out of the cave during daylight hours and find fruit, nuts, and berries and tote them back to the cave before dark. It's in our nature to spend hours looking for something we're not sure we can find, and when we find it, to pile it up and take it home."

Raven looked at her suspiciously. "You're kidding."

"Okay – so try this one on for size. Why do women keep shopping after we've found what we're looking for?"

"Um," Raven replied, "because we might find something better?"

"Right. So a cave-woman searched the jungle, passing up fruit, nuts, and berries, but noting where they are. When the day is half done, she heads back. Remember, she has to get back to the cave before dark. Now she knows where to find everything, and how much she can carry, so she takes the best route back to the goodies, loads up, and heads home. She's wasted very little energy and has the pick of what she could find that day. Like our theoretical cave-woman, you experience a deep sense of satisfaction with your 'finds.'"

"That makes a disturbing amount of sense."

"Face it Raven," Rita said as she sipped her tea, "We're just genetically evolved to shop."

"Okay, now you're just yanking my chain."

"Maybe. Beware of 'Evolutionary Psychology' logic like that. It tends to reinforce stereotypes and traditional gender roles. Take it with a grain of salt. But anything that gives me a good reason to shop is okay by me."

The older woman finished her tea, pushed aside her plate and rose.

"And now," she said, "to the spa!"

Raven's eyes widened, but just then there was a sharp popping sound from just around the corner.

"Gunfire," said Raven as she streaked from her seat.

"Raven, wait!" said Rita, but the Titan was already in the air and moving down the street like an arrow from a bow.

Raven flashed down the street and into an open plaza where at least a half dozen masked men were finishing a gunfight outside of a bank. Three uniformed guards were down, and the men were piling into a panel truck. Raven's hand flashed out, and the doors to the truck were blocked by panels of dark energy.

"Stop!" she shouted, "You are all under arrest!"

The closest of the robbers turned to Raven and said, "Like hell," and opened fire. The other's followed suit, and a hail of bullets rained down on the solitary Titan. Raven immediately raised a shield of dark energy, and the bullets bounced away, but she immediately realized that the random bullets were placing bystanders in danger.

"Dammit," she thought, "Normally by this point Robin had thrown smoke grenades to block their vision, Starfire has hit two or three of them with starbolts, or Changeling has gone baboon and crawled all over a couple of them." Her hand hovered over her Titan communicator, but there was no point. There was no one to answer it but Cyborg, and by the time he could get here, it would all be over, one way or another.

"Crap," she muttered. "This working alone is going to take some getting used to."

Raven thought fast. She thought of any number of ways to resolve the problem, and quickly, but all of them involved injuries or fatalities.

Then the earth shook. Gently. Nearby, small, circular waves rippled in the fountain. A low, almost sub harmonic thump came again, and again.

"It's almost," thought Raven, "what Changeling sounds like in his T-rex form."

From behind Raven came a panicked scream, then a second one. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw a palm tree that was peeking over the top of a four story building jolted, and then fell. More screams. Raven held her hand out, still deflecting incoming bullets while debating how to deal with whatever was coming around the corner at her.

The figure came around the corner. In the years she had known her, Rita had been "Garfield's mom." Somehow, Raven had never really integrated that person into the larger picture. Rita had another name: Elastigirl, and Elastigirl was living large. The earth shook as concrete cracked under her feet. At a height of fifty feet and weighing in at at least thirty or forty tons, Rita made quite an impression.

"THERE YOU ARE," boomed Rita's voice, above the shrill screams of the scattering group. "WHO'S THAT SHOOTING AT MY DAUGHTER-IN-LAW?" The gunfire petered off to a stop.

Her enormous size made Rita appear slow and awkward, but there was nothing slow about the way she snatched the lead bank robber off of his feet.

"DROP IT," she said, "OR MY FINGERS MIGHT SLIP. AND THAT WOULD BE MESSY."

The man's gun fell about fifty feet to the ground. The others in his crew just stared.

"WELL GENTLEMEN," she said, "DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND LIE DOWN ON THE GROUND. REALLY. DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE."

When the police arrived, Rita was standing over the bad guys, who lay quietly in the gutter, hands outstretched, and faces to the concrete. Nobody, but nobody, wanted to be accused of trying to look up Elastagirl's skirt.

Later, both women lay side by side in body wraps, slices of cucumbers over their eyes.

"Raven," said Rita, "I know the 'daughter-in-law' comment was presumptive. You aren't with my son any more. But, well, I needed them to stop shooting before they hurt somebody."

"It's okay," Raven replied, "I'm just glad you were there. I couldn't think of a way to contain them without killing them."

"I'm glad I could help."

"I've been in what Garfield calls the 'hero-biz' for over seven years, but it's all been as part of a team. I don't have much experience with no one to watch my back."

"You'll work your way through it. You're a bright girl. It won't take you long."

It was later, at the spa that Raven had to admit it. She did feel better. She had been steamed, massaged, manicured, pedicured, and shampooed within an inch of her life. It was almost a meditative experience. She currently lay on a spa table, sans clothes, but wrapped from neck to ankles in seaweed, a mask of purple mud on her face, with cucumber slices over her eyes.

She spoke, "Rita, I need to know something. I've never been through anything like this before."

"Well, the seaweed wrap is to soften and strengthen our skin and to help detoxify our metabolisms. The face mask is to provide nourishment for the skin and clean and smooth the face. I think that the cucumbers are just to make us look silly."

"No, I mean – has Steve ever been unfaithful to you?"

Rita paused. "Are you sure you're ready to have this conversation?"

There was silence in the room. Then, "I think so."

"If you're sure. You're moving fast. All right Raven. But this calls for eye contact and patting you on the knee from time to time. Let's get out of this stuff and find some ice cream."

Later, in a quiet café, Raven pinned Rita down. "So – has Steve ever cheated on you?"

Rita sighed. "We're a bad example, Raven. Steve has had the opposite problem. For a long time he was obsessed with me. So no, not as far as I know. But Steve's not normal."

"But," she continued, "Before Steve, before my . . . accident, I was in the movies. And let me tell you, I had an active, passionate love life."

Rita's eyes got far away for a moment. She murmured under her breath. "Errol Flynn had a washboard stomach. And Bogie was taller than everybody thought he was."

Then her eyes cleared. She looked over at Raven. "I learned a lot about men in those days. They're simpler than most women imagine, but so very different from us that they seem really complicated."

Raven raised an eyebrow.

"I don't have any details on what happened between my son and your friend. You've said he cheated on you. He wouldn't discuss it with me. So I'm guessing he slept with her, you're hurt beyond being able to express it, and he's so ashamed of himself he's gone to hide in Los Angeles."

"That's . . . actually pretty accurate."

"So you haven't talked to him since is big dramatic reveal?"

"Well," Raven supplied, "not really, no."

"So you didn't ask him why, or what the circumstances were."

"I didn't think it was relevant. I mean, he did it, and he admitted it."

"So, you didn't 'catch him,' or have to be told by friends or family. He came right to you."

"Pretty much."

"Okay Raven, here's the hard truth. Most men will accept sex if it's offered. The good ones feel badly afterwards. They also work to not get in situations where it will be offered if they've got no business accepting it. I'm not saying they get a pass. We've all got to own our choices. But if you hold out for a man who never makes mistakes like this, well . . . you may be waiting a very long time."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"I'm not going to try to explain it. I don't understand it myself. But men and women are different, and different doesn't mean better or worse. But men's brains are physically different from women's. Take a dozen brains and any competent anatomist can sort them by gender. If we're physically that different, how can we _help _but think different?"

"What about Starfire?"

"I don't know what to tell you there. If she was a fellow American, I could say some things, maybe. But she's not just from a different culture. She's a different _species._ There is one thing though."

"What," asked the younger woman.

"Like I said before: there are only about 5000 meta-humans on the planet. You need all the friends, or at least positive relationships you can get in a small town like that. Plus, you had a friendship of almost ten years. It seems a shame to just trash that without at least _talking _to her."

Raven paused. It was real hard to consider. Just the thought made her stomach burn. But still . . . .

"I . . . don't have many friends. I'll think about it. But there's not much point, anyway. She's gone back to Tamaran."

They sat in silence for a moment. Rita sipped her coffee.

"Rita," said Raven suddenly, and without thought, "Did _you_ ever cheat on _Steve?"_

When thinking of this moment years later, Raven's first impress was always, "Wow. Only Rita could make a spit-take look elegant."

Rita took the linen napkin and carefully wiped her lips, then signaled the waiter for more napkins to clean the coffee from the table top. Raven, who had seen what was coming, had raised a tiny shield of dark energy. Her shopping outfit remained, happily, coffee free.

"I'm sorry," said Raven. "That's none of my business. I just . . . ."

"No dear. It's a perfectly reasonable question that would follow from the conversation. I should have been expecting it. And no," Rita said firmly. I have never cheated."

There was a long pause. Raven opened her mouth the apologize again, and Rita over-rode her.

"Not on Steve."

Raven closed her mouth.

"I'm going to ask you for some discretion. Everybody who was involved but me is gone, now. But their children are still alive, and if this hits print, it might still hurt some feelings. He was married, and I was engaged. I had been paired up with Don O'Connor. We'd first worked together as kids, and then became romantically involved when we were around, I don't know, twenty or so. Don was a really nice guy, funny, and fun to be around. We had good chemistry on screen and off, and I thought I was in love. Maybe I was. But then there was Frank. I first heard Frank sing in 1938. All the girls were fainting over "Frankie." Including me. We didn't meet until 1943. He was far too old for me, but I _wanted _him. I mean, I really, _really_ wanted him. And then we worked together on "Moonlight in Egypt." I was just in a supporting part in the film, but we shot on location in the ruins near Luxor. Neither his wife, Nancy Barbato, nor Don came along. She hated the heat and Don was working a different picture at the time. You know, the nights on the desert in Egypt are _unbelievably _romantic in the winter."

"You didn't."

Rita's eyes got very, very far away as she looked into the distant past. "Oh, I did. Sometimes it was like I wasn't even _me._ I was _watching _myself act like that. But I _really_ wanted him. So I let him know sex was available. And like most men, he accepted it. At the end of the shoot, the last night in Egypt, he broke it off. He told me that what was okay under the desert moon was _not_ going to be okay in Los Angeles, and that if I was a good sport about it, he'd make sure all the directors knew that I was easy to work with and give me a leg up on my career."

"But if you weren't, he would submarine you?"

Rita smiled gently. "I don't know what you mean by 'submarine,' but I suspect I've got the idea. No, actually, he never threatened me in any way. I wasn't happy, of course, but he'd not lied to me. He never told me he loved me. He never made me any promises, and, in fact, he only promised me the nights. It was clear from the beginning that it was all physical for him. Looking back, I can see now that it was similar for me. He was just so . . . manly. Large and in charge. And he did my reputation as an actress a lot of good. I worked with him three or four more times, and I did get the 'leg up' he promised me. But intimately, we only ever had those short weeks on the far side of the world."

Rita shivered. "I'm not proud of what I did Raven. I've never told another soul, and I don't think that Frank did, either. But you know what? It's also one of my most cherished memories, and as the years roll by, I think if it often. At the same time, if the wrong person had found out at the wrong time? Disaster. I did something really stupid and irrational, and I got away with it. People do that."

Kid Flash and Jinx arrived the next day. Rita watched, concerned for a couple of days, but Jinx and KF were past the goo-goo eyes stage and didn't accidentally pour any salt in Raven's wounds. After one more day, Rita took her leave.

"I'm just an old lady," she said, "And living in a house with four high-energy young people makes me exhausted. Plus, Mento, Negative Man, and Robot Man have probably been smoking all over the Doom Patrol headquarters. If I don't go home soon, I'll never get the smell of stale cigars out of the upholstery."


	51. Blud and Angels

Shout-Outs:

00cLosetFreak00 – Glad you liked it. As to Rita's remarks about women? It's a theory. Like Rita said, you have to be careful when looking at arguments based on evolutionary psychology, because they are impossible to test out. It's just one way of explaining things people don't have reasons for.

Gyhy – Sorry. It's just easier to handle the story in smaller bites.

JOHNXGambit – You're right. Rita's impulsive, spontaneous days are behind her. She always has a plan.

RandomDalmatian326 – I'm glad you liked it. And in Raven's defense, when you're hurting that bad, it's very hard to listen non-judgmentally. If anything Changeling should have waited. Starfire has spent enough time trying to explain herself to her friends, and is more than a little tired of being the one to try to understand and fit in. Losing Raven, Changeling, and Robin all at once was more that up with which she was willing to put. I think you'll be entertained by the interactions in Blüdhaven coming up. I have an idea for the Youngest Honorary Titans, but I'm having trouble fitting them in the current plot.

Egg1 – Glad to hear from you. It's going to take me a few chapters to clean up this mess. It's really amazing. I was able to tear everything up in under 100 words, but it's going to take thousands to fix it. I think there may be a metaphor there.

SomeRandomChick – Glad you're still reading.

NicoleThePenguin – Depending on my free time, I hope to update at least once a week for a while.

TW – Hey, no peeking at the advance notes.

XV165 – I can do that.

Author's Notes:

Very few reviews for Chapter 50. I'm not sure if that's because everybody liked it, or everybody hated it. I wasn't sure how everyone would react to Rita showing up the way that she did. Raven is a challenge to write for because she is so closed off. When Starfire and Garfield left, she really didn't have anyone to talk to. At least that she would be willing to talk to about things like that. I didn't want to just generate someone out of nowhere. I think it worked out pretty well. You won't see Rita manifest her powers very often. She _hates _being Elastigirl. In today's chapter we're going to look into Nightwing's advent into Blüdhaven, which needs to be pulled back from the edge of anarchy. There will also be an angst-filled visit to Los Angeles.

Farther down the road, Starfire's reception on Tamaran is not at all what she, or, I think you guys, are expecting. I can also promise at least one nuclear explosion, a giant war mech and a side of Raven we haven't seen before. Oh, and Changeling is going to sincerely pray, not once, but twice.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

Blüdhaven, New Jersey (Earth).

The rain was beginning to fall harder as Nightwing squatted atop the tenement apartment building on the lower east side of Blüdhaven. Just outside of the waterfront district, the grim little residential neighborhood had the highest mugging rate of any area in the city. The alleys were cluttered with trash and overflowing dumpsters. Slovenly dressed prostituted walked on the sidewalks, careful not to stop and get harassed for "loitering," their shoes crunching on the filthy pavement. Their heavy mascara ran as the rain came down and most had given up trying to keep cigarettes lit.

"It's like coming home from school on vacation, and finding that nothing has changed," thought Nightwing.

He had selected a narrow, poorly lit alley that opened onto a side street. The noisome smell barely made it to the top of the five-story walk-up building who roof he occupied. He glanced back and forth, watching each end of the narrow walkway as shadowy figures moved through it. There were a couple of men standing in the shadows of the north end of the walkway, watching the street and occasionally talking in low tones. His eyes narrowed. From the north end of the walkway came a shrill cry that was suddenly cut off. He extended his arm and there was a soft "phut" as his grapnel shot out and grabbed hold of the building ledge. The force-feedback mechanism in the handle pulsed in his hand, indicating that the grapnel was solidly set, and he launched himself from the roof. The cable twanged tight and he swung toward the two, no, three figures at the end of the alley. To larger people were holding a smaller one between them.

Closer. Yep. Two men, late teens to early twenties. Unshaven. Dark hoodies and ratty jeans. Between them was a woman, slightly older. They had a firm grip on her arms as she struggled between them. The one on the left was dragging at her purse, while the one on her right hissed, "C'mon, give it up" in her ear. Nightwing twisted his hips slightly, adjusting his trajectory. With a meaty thump, his heels impacted the kidneys of the larger man at just fewer than twenty miles an hour. The man grunted loudly and fell to the slimy pavement, moaning. Nightwing completed the arc of the swing, released the grapnel, performed a flawless somersault at the height of his arc, and then dropped to the ground in a crouch, one leg extended.

"Now boys, who said you guys could play in my sandbox?"

The smaller of the two thugs gaped at him for a moment, glanced to where his partner lay groaning on the ground, and said, "Mister, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but I'm gonna cut you."

The little man flicked open a knife and advanced in a sloppy fighter's crouch. Nightwing rolled his eyes.

"Somebody's always gotta be a tough guy," he thought.

Nightwing launched himself at the mugger, fist extended toward his face.

"He's pretty quick," Nightwing thought as the man flicked his hand in front of his face to block Nightwing's fist with his blade. "Yes, quick, I have to give him that. But not very bright."

Nightwing had been feinting to the man's face. Instead of a punch, he rotated his hips and kicked the man in the side of the head, slamming him into the alley wall, where he slid down to slump in a puddle of spilled soda and old urine.

The woman had scrambled to her feet, clutching her purse and staring, wide-eyed. She flinched like a beaten animal. Nightwing stepped back from her, holding his hands waist high, palms up.

"It's okay," he said. "You're safe now."

She slid sideways out of the alley, never taking her eyes off of him.

"I don't suppose I can get you to hang around and press charges, can I?"

She turned her back and sprinted off down the street, never speaking.

Nightwing sighed and looked at the pile of groaning meat in the alley. He had a long way to go. And that was the way the whole night went. He did nothing but interrupt muggings. The victim would flee, and he let the muggers go. If the victims wouldn't press charges, there was no point in calling the police. That would wait until later. Right now, he just needed to start making an impact.

It was several weeks later that things began to go a little differently.

The deal was going down on a loading dock down a dark street. Bennie was there with a small brown paper sack full of money. He was there to pick up black rock. And one way or another, at least one of his problems was going to be solved. A dark figure approached from the shadows. The other man was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and showing a serious bulge in one pocket.

"Crap," thought Bennie, "I hope I'm not about to be ripped off."

"Money?" said a raspy voice.

Bennie passed the sack of cash to his connection, and the older man handed him a bag full of small crystals.

"Ain'tcha gonna count it?" asked Bennie.

"No," said the other man. "If I come up short, I'll just find you and kill you. The next idiot won't make the same mistake. So either way, it's all good."

Bennie swallowed. "It's all there."

"I know."

Then Nightwing landed on him, feet first, snapping both sides of his collar bone. The man screamed and dropped to the ground.

"Ahhhhhh!"

Bennie, however, reacted differently.

"Get him," he cried, and the loading dock erupted with six men, armed with baseball bats, knives and chains.

The fight was ugly, brutal and short.

"Sorry," said Nightwing, as he dragged Bennie over the pile of groaning street-meat to stand him upright next to the door. "I lacked my usual grace and elegance because I kept getting distracted, catching your sorry ass and dragging it back to the fight."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the small time dealer answered.

"Bennie, Bennie, Bennie," said Nightwing as he got out his grapnel. "We both know you've got better social skills that that. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

The grapnel pulsed, and then lifted Nightwing and his squirming guest to the top of the six-story tenement.

"You set me up, Bennie," said Nightwing as he pulled the reluctant man onto the roof.

"No, it wasn't me, I swear."

"'Get him?' Bennie, somebody who sounded an awful lot like you set off that ambush."

"I didn't think . . ."

"You didn't think I could take six of those lousy, untrained, gutless dirt-bags? Bennie, tell me you didn't pay top dollar for that crap."

The Nightwing extended his arm and dangled the smaller man out over the six-story drop to the alley below.

"Sorry Bennie, I know it's a cliché, but I'm short on time tonight. That guy with the broken collar bone is just a delivery boy. Tell me who your crack contact is and where to find him."

"I don't know anything!"

"Bennie, I'm really hurt. I mean, we had a _deal._ And I don't offer deals to just any drug dealer that sets up a stand in my territory. I let you sell your weed, your acid, and your mushrooms because they aren't very addictive, you get to make a living, your customers get to take the edge off of living in this sewage heap, and Bennie-the-Snitch is my ears on the street, and brings me things I want to know. Instead, you tried to have me killed. It almost makes me question the value of our business relationship."

The ugly little man slipped a little lower as Nightwing's grip loosened.

"He'll kill me if I tell you."

"Bennie. Think. I'm dangling you over a six story drop, and my hand is getting numb. True: he may kill you later. But I'm _right here_ and I'm pissed off at you _right now._

Bennie fell a little further.

"Okay!" He shouted. "Ok! Ok! Ok! His name is Harold Ferguson, and he hangs out at the pool hall on 69th. I don't know where he lives. That's all, I swear."

"I believe you Bennie. Good-bye."

And Nightwing let go. Benny screamed as he fell four stories. When he reached 20 feet from the ground the grapnel Nightwing had attached to his ankle dug into the flesh around his leg as the brakes on the reel started to slow his fall. By the time he reached the dank alley floor, he was moving very slowly, and hit his head lightly, raising a small bump. The grapnel disengaged and vanished up into the darkness. Bennie scrambled to his feet, a dark wet stain spreading from the crotch of his pants. He glanced once up into the darkness and ran out of the alley like a scalded dog.

Nightwing smirked slightly as he watched the petty criminal race down the alley and turn into the street. He waited for a moment, and then spoke into the darkness.

"I know you're there."

Silence.

"I always know when you're there. You trained me."

Behind him a tall, dark figure slipped silently from the shadows, its long cape flowing like part of the night. Dark eyes glittered from a pointed cowl.

"So, you're the one they've been calling Nightwing. I thought so. Why the change?"

"The old traffic-light suit wasn't inspiring sufficient terror in the criminal underclass. I decided that dressing like a circus acrobat, while nostalgic, wasn't getting the job done. Besides, it was time for a change, Batman."

"I like it. Dark. Creepy. Vaguely disturbing. It has all the right touches. Shame no one outside of Kandor knows what a "Nightwing" is."

"All the well-known creepy night-flyers were taken."

The corner of Batman's mouth twitched.

"Only six to one, and a sloppy mess. Are you getting soft?"

Nightwing frowned. "I told Bennie, and now I'm telling you, having to drag his sorry ass back to the fight over and over again threw my timing off."

"And you let a known drug-dealer go. That's not like you. What's the story?"

Nightwing sighed. "The police are so corrupt and the local mobs have the people so scared, no one will press charges, and when they do, a 'clerical error' gets the bad guys turned loose. And when he's not trying to kill me, Bennie doesn't hurt anybody. Plus, Benny-the-Snitch always has good information. So I put him on the bottom of the list." Nightwing still spoke lightly, but ever so slightly more forcefully. "What brings _you _to _my_ town?"

The corner of Batman's mouth twitched again.

"This city was such a festering boil that the pus was starting to slop over onto Gotham. I thought I was going to have to take a sabbatical and come clean it up. Then, about four weeks ago, the mugging rate dropped like a rock. Even with no arrests, the number of muggings went down, and the number of un-solved assaults went up. Young, urban youths with long records for violence were getting beaten up, first in pairs, then in fours, and finally in sixes. And then there was a crimp in the drug traffic. A small one but . . . "

"I'm just getting started."

"I know that now. I thought I recognized your work, so I came to see."

Batman extended a hand. In it was a small, black, pointy USB drive.

"My research. State Police reports, journalist's files, crime patterns, networks of known associates. That sort of thing. No plan and no marching orders, though, just raw data."

Nightwing paused, and then smiled, accepting the drive.

"Thanks."

"Now, about that fight . . . "

"You consider lending a hand?"

Batman stepped to one side. Behind him were two unconscious men, and a pair of shattered rifles.

"Ah," said Nightwing. "That could have been . . . inconvenient. Bennie must not fear me enough."

"You'll fix that."

"I will. So, now what?" Nightwing said, guardedly.

"I've got to head back to Gotham early in the morning, but I'm free tonight. We haven't spent any quality time together since you left for the West Coast. I thought we could do a traditional father/son activity. You know. Indulge in some nostalgia.

Nightwing turned away, staring into the night. He worked alone, these days, and he liked it. If there was no one to guard his back, there also wasn't anyone to betray him. If he had no help, at least he also didn't have to worry about leading someone wrong. On the other hand, it hadn't been all bad. In fact, there'd been a lot of good times. And he'd missed the old man. "Feel like shooting some pool?"

This time both corners of Batman's mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"I'd love a visit to an old school pool-hall."

The sound of compressed air hissed twice in the darkness as twin grapnels shot upwards and the two men swung off toward the waterfront in identical arcs.

* * *

Los Angeles (Earth): Four Weeks Ago

Garfield stood on the front porch, no, _his_ front porch, holding the key in his hand. It was a new, shiny key, supplied to him by Vernon Questor, his father's factor and investment broker. He looked up at the large wooden door and flanking windows. He'd wanted to take a long, hard look at the house and yard before going inside, so he left the Mustang down at the foot of the driveway and walked up the long, curving driveway. It wasn't quite a mansion, and it wasn't quite on an estate. But it was on several acres of prime real-estate in the hills above Los Angeles. He looked up at the door and the stained glass accent window above it. Three iron pins through a red heart. He didn't remember much about living in this house, but the stained glass he'd remembered. He put the key in the well-oiled lock and turned it. With a clack, the door opened.

He stepped into the foyer. White walls, flagstone floor, antique settle by the door. Wide stairs leading up, hallway leading back . . . this house was huge.

"Who's there," a female voice came from the back.

A matronly white woman with freckles and in a housekeeper's smock stuck her head around the corner.

"Mr. Logan," she said, surprised. "I thought you were going to call. I'd have met you at the door."

"It's okay. I wanted to see the house. I haven't been back here for . . . a very long time."

"I know, sir," she replied. "I had that from Mrs. McTavish, before she retired. A very sad story, sir, if you'll pardon me."

"Sure," he said, and then continued uncertainly. "Questor said the house had a 'staff,' but it seems a little small for that."

"Oh, well, there's really just me," she said. "I'm Molly O'Banion. We've a gardening service, but they don't live in, of course. Mr. Hanson's been in charge of the grounds since I came, and he's got a crew that changes practically every week. Now, I dust, vacuum, and am the general dogsbody inside. Of course, when we open up the rest of the house, I'll have in dailies or weeklies to help."

"Don't call anybody yet. I'm probably not going to open up the entire house. I guess, just, a bedroom, the study, and the kitchen are all I'm going to need. And the den."

Her face fell. "I was sure hopin' a young man such as yourself would be more social. It gets powerful lonely up here all the time in the quiet."

"I guess we'll have to see. Can we get pizza delivery here?"

"Delivery?" said the woman with some asperity. "I may not be _that_ good a cook, but I'm not that bad, either. I've already got dinner on. Irish Stew with cornbread.'

"Home cooked meals? Awright!"

The next day Garfield talked to his housekeeper about being a "mostly lacto-ovo vegetarian," and she promised to adjust the menu to accommodate him in the future. But before that, he'd had to go to his room to clean up for dinner.

"Just follow me, Mr. Logan. She'd led him up the stairs and to the master bedroom.

"This is my parent's bedroom," he'd said.

"It was. You're the master of the house now. That makes it yours."

The master bedroom was huge. The centerpiece was a four-poster rice bed with a large matching dresser on one wall, and a Chippendale vanity on the other. An archway in the back corner led to a solar with a daybed, while the other corner led to the spacious bathroom. Garfield swallowed and set down his overnight bag. He slowly walked over to the walk-in closet and opened the door. An interior light came on automatically.

The closet was big, and the doctor's Logan had made a reasonable effort to fill it. Garfield walked down his father's side of the closet. Suits, blazers, jackets, a tuxedo – anything a successful mature male adult might need in Los Angeles, but would not be useful in North Africa had been left here, carefully maintained by the housekeeper for twenty years. Shoes. Loafers, old-school high-top tennis shoes. Wingtips. Idly, looking down, Garfield kicked off his sneakers and slipped on a pair of the wingtips. They fit, or near enough.

"Big enough to fill my Dad's shoes. I never thought I'd hear myself say that."

Reluctantly, he turned to look at Marie's side of the closet. Like her husband Mark, Marie had left behind anything that wouldn't be useful on the North African expedition. Sun dresses, evening gowns (just a couple of those), clam diggers, A-line skirts and any number of tops and slacks.

"Mama's wardrobe," he thought, "suffered a lot more for being out-of-style that Papa's. I could almost wear most of this stuff."

He blinked.

Walking out of the closet, he stepped into the hall.

I should probably get it over with. He turned right and walked down the bare corridor to the adjacent room. Pushing the door open, he looked around. He blinked again, longer this time, and he swallowed harshly.

The room was painted blue. The lower walls were a darker blue, and the color faded to light blue, up to the white ceiling. All of the furniture in the room was painted a non-toxic white enamel. The bed was small. It was an early model of one of those cribs that can transform into a twin bed, growing with the child. It was in its second configuration: an undersized twin bed, suitable for a six year old. Garfield leaned against the doorframe and tried to swallow the iron-hard lump in his throat. Dr. Seuss books on the shelf. And Little Golden Books. He lifted the lid on the toy box. Much was missing. He'd taken his favorites to Africa.

Transformers. Mr. Potato Head. A plastic General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard.

"Yee-hah," he muttered, dropping the lid.

His eyes were burning and his stomach churned.

"This," he thought, "sucks. I should never have come back here."

Mrs. O'Banion found him perched on the rail of the widow's walk outside the master bedroom.

"Careful," she said, "you might fall."

He looked over at her and frowned. Then he turned into a horned owl and back again, "I'm not likely to fall," he said."

"Saints preserve us!" said the housekeeper.

"I thought you knew."

"There's knowin' and then there's seein' Mr. Logan."

"Is it going to be a problem?"

"No, no, of course not. But that's uncanny. I was coming to see what time you'd want your dinner tonight."

He shrugged. "Seven O'clock. I'll be back. I'm going to go take a look around the neighborhood. Tomorrow, please find a vintage consignment shop. Take my mother's clothes there and sell them. Give the money to the nearest no-kill animal shelter."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"It's not like I'll ever wear it. Also, please find me a decent tailor. I'm going to have Papa's suits fitted."

Changeling flickered into an osprey and launched himself from the rail. O'Banion crossed herself.

"That's goin' to take some getting used to."

The emerald osprey glided over the rooftops and trees of the upscale residential neighborhood. Eventually Changeling heard the sound of a little boy, crying. He glided to a stop on a fencepost and popped back into his human form.

"Hi," he said. "My name's Garfield. What's yours?"

The boy sniffed. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"That's probably pretty smart. But I want to help. What's wrong?"

"My cat's stuck in a tree." More sniffling.

"Okay," thought Changeling, "If this was any more of a cliché, I need to be wearing a white hat and spurs."

"I'll be okay. She knows how to climb trees, and also how to climb down. She'll come down when she's ready."

"I'm gonna be in big trouble. Mama's cat's not _supposed _to be outside. I left the door open."

Changeling looked up into the tree and sure enough, the cat looked to be a purebred seal point Himalayan, ill-suited by both upbringing and bloodline to do well out-of-doors, at least in this climate.

"Tell you what," he said, "If I can bring her down, will you promise to be more careful next time?"

The boy nodded. Changeling turned into a green seal point Himalayan and scampered up the tree. When he reached the other cat, he began purring loudly, and strutted up next to the jittery animal. She sniffed at his scent and heard his rumbling purr and began to relax. When she was completely at ease, he turned back into his human form and, still purring, began to stroke the cat. He then picked her up, turned into a monkey and scampered down the tree with the cat under one arm.

"Okay now, remember, she gets scared easily. Handle her gently, speak softly, and carry her inside."

He watched as the little boy walked up the driveway and went into the house, carefully closing the front door.

"I guess not all victories have to be cosmic to make you feel good."

Changeling took wing again, and glided around the neighborhood in ever-widening circles.


	52. Welcome Home

Shout-Outs:

RandomDalmation326 – It's good to hear from you. You give some of the most detailed input. And you're right. People are _complicated._ Nightwing is going to have his own challenges. One of the interesting things about being in your early twenties is that people treat you like an adult, and you feel like one. It's only a couple of decades later that you realize that you had no idea what the blazes you were doing. But yeah – right now Nightwing is reveling in the simplicity of his life. There's him, and the bad guys. And, of course, the old man about an hour or so away by air. Changeling is in for some small surprises. As for Starfire – big shock for her the chapter. I haven't given the youngest Titans much thought, to tell you the truth.

Egg1 – Things continue looking up for Raven.

SomeRandomChick – I went as far as I could. How much farther would you like me to go?

NicolethePenguin – Always good to hear from you.

* * *

XV165 – I'll update that chapter with a footnote when I have time, but the dialogue for those of you who don't speak hugmumble was:

"GARFIELD CHEATED ON ME!"

"Raven, dear, I would never tell you that what you say isn't true, but it _can't_ have been that simple. He's loyal to a fault. It's what got him kicked out of the Doom Patrol, and has almost gotten him killed over a dozen times."

She patted Raven's heaving shoulders.

"HE DID IT WITH MY BEST FRIEND!"

Tears and snot deposited themselves on Rita's trenchcoat in copious quantities as Raven vented her hurt and her anger.

"HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?"

"That's it sweetie – get it all out. It'll be okay – you'll see."

"NO! NOTHING WILL EVER BE OKAY AGAIN!"

* * *

TW – They're not all that strange, and they're not that scary once you realize they're not that strange.

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne – I thought it would be a different approach. When I see his birth parents, it's always either a flashback or a dream sequence, and most people don't touch them at all. I thought doing this indirectly would be an interesting change.

00cLosetFreak00 – Don't look to see too much of Bruce in this story. He's so awesome that he tends to take over any scene he's in. And this isn't his tale. And yeah, the story just grinds on. I continue to underestimate how long it's going to take to tell the scenes I want to write.

Paragon the Half Dragon – Always good to hear from you.

Gyhy – Sorry to disappoint. More Changeling in the next chapter. He's going to meet a fan.

JOHNXGambit – Yeah, Dick is prone to leave the team in the dark and get people hurt because he thinks he can control everything. I think he's unconsciously trying to use Bruce's playbook. But Bruce worked alone, so he didn't need to keep anybody in the dark. Dick is over-looking that Bruce always kept him in the loop. Maybe not all the details, but Robin always had the big picture before they went into the field.

Shugokage – Thanks. Look for Rita to pull farther back when Raven and Changeling start to reconcile. She's willing to be there when Raven needs a friend, but knows far better than to get into the middle of that. Right now she feels like she's trying to adjust the cooling rods on a nuclear reactor with her bare hands, and it could go very bad on her at any moment.

RandomDalmatian326 – They can't all be fun. There's no dramatic tension without conflict. Take a look at Downton Abbey. Nobody gets to be happy for more than three episodes. If they are, it gets boring.

Shadico – I write as fast as I can. Some of this stuff is just not coming as easily as the earlier stuff does. And hey, it's not "filler." It's "character development!"

Chowbo – One of my frustrations with the Star Trek movies was they the seemed to always need to get bigger and more cosmic. I think that little stories have value, and getting a cat out of a tree is a time-honored hero-trope.

Lord Anubis Judge of the Dead – Thanks. Have already started dialing up the tension with Starfire in this chapter.

Jimmy – Thanks. Once I got started on it, it came pretty easily.

Egg1 – Yep. It only takes thirty seconds to pee down your leg in public. But it can take almost an hour to wash your pants.

Guest – Always welcome.

TW – No, the LA team doesn't exist yet in this particular continuity. The reason Garfield went to LA is that there is no hero team there, and meta-human villains have been popping up.

IanZakk – Oh, no problem. Any review at all is welcome.

Shadow1real – We'll get there. Like I said in my summary, this is the pairing.

Tatsymarusmith – Not as fast as I would like. I'm pushing Raven out of character, but I can't help it. With personal growth comes emotional growth. The alternative is to make her an analytic left-brain. And what fun is that? I'm not above serving up cheese (see cold rain) but I didn't think it was necessary for the parting of the ways. I'm not planning to spend a lot of time in Bludhaven. Most of that is going to happen off-screen. But it was a convenient place to park Nightwing.

Serenarey Chiba – Now that's unexpected. When I first started writing (years and years ago) I was accused of "adjectival diarrhea." My dialogue was wooden and stilted. Part of this novel (we left novella behind quite a few words ago) is an exercise in dialogue, and in attempting to "show, not tell" the story. I will give this some thought and see if I can make a change. This chapter is already in the can, and I'm reluctant to go back, though. So look for better work pictures in chapter 53.

Jane – You're making me blush. (Keep doing it.)

* * *

Author's Notes:

Are we having fun yet? I know that character development can go slow, especially when you're ager to see what happens next. When the chapters come out so far apart, it can be maddening. I'll try to pick up the pace without dialing up the suck too much. Don't expect to see much in Bludhaven. That's going to mostly happen off-stage. I'm far more interested in the relationships between the friends than the crime-fighting. Expect LA to be particularly thin where it doesn't directly involve Garfield learning about himself. I've been to LA and my brain doesn't like to spend time there. This chapter is mostly going to focus on a long, long way away. We're going to Tamaran to find out what's going on there. We'll have the return of a villain as yet unseen, what I hope is some fun misdirection, and take a brief visit home to Jump City, to check on Cyborg and Raven. Down the road we are going to have an epic battle in the thin air of Tamaran, Changeling will cross-dress in a way I don't think anyone will anticipate, and there will be a dramatic Boo-yah from an unexpected quarter. But first, Raven is going to take a trip to Bludhaven, because there are some things that Nightwing is simply _not _equipped to handle alone. Plus, Changeling meets a fan.

* * *

Interstellar Space, On Approach to the Vega Sector  
(Four weeks ago)

Koriand'r was almost home. As she approached the outer edge of the Vega system, she _transitioned_ again, dropping past the relativistic barrier. There was a rainbow burst of light and an emission of x-rays as she dropped to sub-light speeds around .99C. She waited to be challenged as she flew in toward the outermost band of the Tamaranian home system. Bleeding off energy from her long flight, Koriand'r began to slow.

_"I have no communications equipment to contact the picket vessels. They will have detected my return to normal space and will need to identify me."_[1]

The young woman slowed down some more as she passed what she thought of as the frontier, but there was no one to greet her. She looked about. She really expected to have been challenged by now.

_"I will check in at Farpoint Station."__**[2]**_

Farpoint Station is the outermost Tamaranian outpost in their home system. Actually one of four stations: Farpoint Alpha, Farpoint Bravo, Farpoint Charlie, and Farpoint Delta, they watch the space lanes for incoming vessels. Most of the time, Farpoint simply identifies and tracks commercial traffic into and out of the system, but their main responsibility is solemn. They are entrusted with watching the boarder of the Tamaranian home system for enemy invaders. Their first responsibility is to detect incoming hostile spacecraft and warn the High Guard.

Koriand'r could not have given you directions to Farpoint, but she knew exactly where it was supposed to be, the same way that you know where the nearest gas station is to your home.

"_Perhaps,"_ she thought, _"I am confused. Farpoint should be right here."_

She accelerated again, and began to sweep around the Vega's plane of the ecliptic, looking for the missing space station. After only a few minutes a light-duty K'vartog-class scout vessel intercepted her course. With great caution, Koriand'r slowed to a complete stop and waited. Several long minutes passed, as the scout ship no doubt attempted to contact her through standard communication protocols. She carefully kept herself at the same position relative to the scout. As she waited, she looked over the warship. On approach, she'd noticed the scorch mark.

_"That is a near miss from a plasma-cannon. Why has it not been repaired?"_

She looked more closely. Like most spacecraft, the exterior of the warship should have been studded with instruments to examine space around it. The scorched area was more than a mere paint job. At a guess, approximately forty percent of the ship's "eyes" had been poked out. The little ship's ability to do her job was seriously compromised.

_"Why is she out here in this condition?"_

After a while, the airlock opened and five Tamaranians in the uniform of the High Guard flew out of the hatch in cover formation. They approached Koriand'r and formed a semi-circle in front of her, covering her with their power-lances. A power lance is a long, spear-like weapon that is normally used to project a beam of force at the enemy, but up close and personal, can be used just like pointy objects have been used since time immemorial. Koriand'r frowned. Like most warrior cultures, the display of drawn weapons generally implies a challenge. In formal or official situations such as this one, such challenges are rude in the extreme. The leader of the squad drew his sidearm and pointed it at Koriand'r. Her frown deepened. The young man drifted forward until the energy aura surrounding him came into contact with Koriand'r's.

_"Identify yourself and explain what you are doing on the frontier."_

His manner was crisp and official.

_"I," _Koriand'r responded, _"Am Princess Koriand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r, scion of the House of Myand'r, and I am coming home. Who are you to speak to me this way? Have manners been discarded since I have been away?"_

The young man's eyebrows went up and his lips pursed slightly.

_"Princess Koriand'r. Interesting. You will turn out to be either who you say you are, or a cleverly disguised spy. In either case, you are above my pay-grade. M'lady, you will kindly accompany me aboard my vessel. I shall contact my superiors, who will advise me as to your . . . disposition."_

Koriand'r thought for a moment. She had been deliberately insulted and was now right on the edge of being called a liar. Either were reasons for a death-challenge. Tamaran, one notes, is a very, very polite society.

He continued, _"If you are who you say you are, rest assured that when you are briefed, you will find my actions to be above reproach."_

The moment stretched out. The five men in front of her looked slightly wide-eyed, but prepared to burn her down where she stood. As a princess of the blood royal and a student of the Warlord's of Okarra, Koriand'r was unconcerned for her own safety. After all, there were only five of them.

_"Very well," _she said, _"I shall consent to your escort. But before I do so, I will have your name, Captain. I will need it to seek you out if I find that you have unduly challenged me."_

_"I am Korgar Etann-Fossh, Captain of the High Guard survey vessel _Victory. _You may call upon me at your leisure," _he said with a small, regretful smile. _"I am sorry that I have treated you with discourtesy. Welcome home, my Lady, if my Lady you be."_

Koriand'r was escorted aboard the small warship and taken to what was clearly a holding room. Two of the crew remained outside the door, while the others went back to their normal duty stations. She tried several times to engage them in conversation, looking for new of her home planet, but, while polite, they remained uncommunicative. She felt the vibrations in the hull change as the ships sub-light engines engaged and the vessel continued on her way, returning to her assigned patrol corridor.

After about an hour in the bare room, Koriand'r's patience began to wear thin. The young Captain approached her room.

_"Your Highness," _he said, _"I'm afraid it's mixed news from Fleet. Your claim is said to be credible, and we are to treat you will all courtesy, but your identity __must_ _be verified. Accordingly, the battle cruiser _Welcome Wagon _has been detailed to rendezvous with us and to take you home. We cannot do so ourselves for operational security reasons. I am sorry to have to continue to keep you waiting. Here is all of the available hardcopy reading material on the ship, and the cook will be by to bring you some refreshment. It is the best I can do under the circumstance."_

_"That's quite all right, Captain," _said Koriand'r, icily. She accepted the reading material with and expression of civility frozen on her face. Then she softened ever so slightly.

_"Can you at least tell me what has happened to _Farpoint Alpha?" she asked.

The young man paused, licking his lips. _"I shouldn't. But you are almost certain to be verified. And I can't imagine that it would do the enemy any good. I mean, they must already know. Farpoint, well, all four of them were destroyed in a surprise attack. They were lost with all hands."_

Koriand'r's eyes widened with shock. _"Here?" _she said. _"Here in the home system?"_

The officer's face took on a grim expression. _"Yes, m'lady. Here. The Gordanians struck with no warning, and with overwhelming force. We only know because a courier that had just made a delivery was still in sensor range when they hit. That's why the delay in transferring you to _Welcome Wagon. _We can't leave our patrol section, or this frontier will be completely blind to an enemy incursion."_

Koriand'r blinked, and tried to settle in with the reading material, but found herself unable to focus.

_"I knew we were at war, but that the enemy could strike so close to home is disturbing. Worse – why is a tiny warship like _Victory _the only eyes on his arc of the orbit? Surely more than one vessel should be on patrol out here."_

The rendezvous with _Welcome Wagon_ went smoothly, and the "honor guard" that greeted Koriand'r at the airlock was more "honor" and less "guard." The skipper of the _Welcome Wagon _was a tall man, even for a Tamaranian. He loomed over Koriand'r even as he bowed with a huge grin on his face.

_"Welcome Aboard, Your Highness," _Said Captain Krausa. _"Our infirmary will be able to process your DNA confirmation – but I believe that to be just a formality. The Supreme Ruler is __very__ eager to see you. We were ordered here at full speed, and are to immediately escort you to the Capital!"_

Before Koriand'r and Krausa were even able to walk to the bridge of his ship, the vibrations of the deck told her that they were already under way, and at a most uneconomical speed, too.

_"How is it," _asked Koriand'r, _"That the frontier is so thinly watched?"_

The officer confirmed that none of his subordinates were in earshot before speaking. _"The war has not gone well for Tamaran at all. The home fleet is now fewer than 300 ships. The Supreme Ruler has had us pull into a defensive formation at the center of the system. Since our "eyes" are down all the way around the frontier, we need to be where we can be __anywhere_ _in the shortest span of time possible."_

_"But what of the expeditionary fleets?"_

_"Your Highness, I am not privy to the flag-level information at Fleet, but I . . . have not gotten so much as an email from my friends in any of the expeditionary fleets in over a year."_

_"I . . . see. Yes, Captain, that does bode ill."_

Koriand'r stood silently at the rail, watching the forward tactical screen for the rest of the voyage, silently contemplating the stars of her home system.

As the helmsman strove to insert the warship into a geo-sync orbit, a yeoman approached the Captain with a computer pad.

_"Ah, your highness. Your DNA verification was, of course, positive. What's interesting is that I've been told to boot you out the airlock. You're faster than any of our shuttles, and the Supreme Ruler is __very__ eager to see you. Both the planetary defenses __and__ air traffic control have been advised to plow the road. We're to get out of your way and send you home with all best speed."_

And so it was done. Koriand'r took her leave of the warship in high orbit and began her fall to the surface of the planet. Only a few moments later her emerald-green contrail was seen streaking across the city. The citizens of Tamaran looked up, and a cheer went up through the air, unheard by the speeding Princess.

Seeing no point in standing on ceremony, Koriand'r flew directly to the small "family" door that opened into her mother's garden. There, amid the hanging plants and lush lawns was a small, single door. Her hand reached for the knob, but it opened ahead of her, admitting her to the corridor within. On the other side stood a young subaltern of the palace guard, a huge smile on his face. He stood to one side and shouted down the hall, _"All hail her Royal Highness, Koriand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r. Let the news be spread though the city: the Princess has returned!"_

There was a clash of arms and armor as the guards stationed every twenty yards or so down the long, wide hallway performed the formal Salute to the Sovereign. Koriand'r's eyes got very wide at that. That was _wrong._ The Salute to the Sovereign was a reverence specifically reserved for the Supreme Ruler of Tamaran.

_"If your highness will follow me, the Supreme Ruler has instructed me to take you to the briefing room immediately!"_

Koriand'r merely nodded, and they walked briskly though the palace to the small, informal briefing room where the Supreme Ruler met with small groups to discuss important issues of the day. Less than an office, but more than a meeting room, in time of war it functioned as a "situation room" for strategic planning. The subaltern opened the door and gestured.

Koriand'r stepped in through the door. On the other side of the room, standing near the table was her old knorfka. A massive man, he towered over the table, an expression of deep concern on his face as he stared hard at the readouts on the table. He looked up and his eyes widened, then a grin began to spread across his face.

But Koriand'r was more concerned by the other figure in the room. Her back to the door, the woman was tall. She wore black thigh-high dominatrix boots with very high heels. Above that her flawless legs were bare to the black micro-skirt that came down just short of paradise. Her midriff was bare, and above that she wore a black crop-top. Tiny golden crescents of her breasts played peek-a-boo out of the bottom of it. Her arms were bare and her silken black hair came down her back almost to her micro-mini. But on her hair she wore the coronet of the Supreme Ruler of Tamaran.

_"I'd know that slutty ass anywhere,"_ thought Koriand'r.

_"Galfore!" _she shouted, _"What has happened here? Why is Kormand'r out of jail? And what is she doing with __your_ _coronet?"_

Koriand'r's knees flexed as she reflexively dropped into a battle-stance. Her soul filled with Righteous Fury as her face twisted into a rictus of outrage. Her hands filled with starbolts about the size of basketballs almost involuntarily. Kormand'r did not move. Absolutely still, she spoke.

_"Well, well, well. The prodigal returns."_

Her hands at her sides, utterly relaxed, Koriand'r's estranged sister slowly turned to face her. Her face slowly rotated out of the shadow of her own body. From her hairline, Kormand'r bore a scar that ran down her face, through her left eye socket, and across her cheekbone and down to her jawline. A simple, black leather eye patch covered the empty socket. The other side of her face was un-marked, and shared Koriand'r's beauty, but the juxtaposition of the slick, wide, red scar tissue with the flawless beauty only served to make the whole all the more disturbing to look at. The scarring was not fresh, but was less than a year old.

_"Oh, no," _said Kormand'r, _"Galfore, this was __your__ idea. __You_ get to tell mommy and daddy's darling favorite about it."

She stepped aside.

_"Galfore?" Questioned Koriand'r._

_"Well, Kori, my little bumgorf, that is, I, I thought it best . . . that, well, you see."_

Kormand'r snickered out loud. Galfore shot the woman a glare and drew himself upright.

_"Your highness," _he began again, this time formally. _"I have been a warrior since I was a child. As a strategist, I'm not bad. But I am not, and have never been trained as a leader of men. When the Gordanians invaded again, the war went poorly. I am not, and have never been a scion of __any_ of the _Royal houses of Tamaran. The warriors obeyed, but were not . . . inspired by fighting for an old nursemaid. Kormand'r is here at my . . . invitation."_

Kormand'r laughed out loud at that. _"Oh, sister dear, it was delicious. He showed up on Centauri, hat in hand and begged the Centaurians to cut me loose so that I could come and pull his narthaks out of the fire."_

Galfore made a face like he'd been eating green persimmons. _"It was my hope that a member of the Royal House might inspire our people and pull them back together. And it worked, at first. At least a little."_

_"It's true," _said Kormand'r_ "Blood will tell. At first, the troops rallied. But we're badly outnumbered, and the Gordanians struck back with overwhelming force. We've lost billions of lives."_

_"But – I do not understand. Galfore, if you needed a Princess of the Blood so very badly, why did you not call me? Why has no one told me things have gotten this bad?"_

Galfore looked away. He tried to speak several times. Finally, Kormand'r lost patience.

_"They didn't think you would come. They're afraid you're still carrying a grudge about that whole 'selling you into slavery' business. I mean, why would __anyone__ possibly think that you might be carrying a grudge over five years of slavery, torture, and abuse?"_

Kormand'r laughed again. _"Sorry about that, by the way. If I'd had any idea where this would all have ended up, I would have just gone moon-surfing on Thogun-III." _

Then the older woman turned to face her younger sister face-to-face. She fixed her single eye on Koriand'r's own. A wicked, sensual smile spread across her face.

_"And now, darling sister," _she said, _"I have something for you._"

She walked across the small room, placing her feet directly in front of each other, causing her hips to sway back and forth. She walked closer, her micro-skirt threatening to ride up with ever step. Her breasts swayed, un-supported under the crop-top.

_"Don't worry, I've spoken to the High Priestess of X'hal personally, and she approves. This sort of thing has happened between sisters of the Blood Royal since recorded history began."_

Koriand'r's eyes widened as Kormand'r passed her pink tongue slowly over her lips. She moved closer, a cat stalking prey.

_"As soon as word came in that you had re-entered the system, I checked with Galfore. He approves. In fact, he wants to watch."_

Koriand'r's blinked and she began to back away, but immediately bumped into the wall. She opened her mouth to speak when Kormand'r spoke once more, the corners of her mouth turning up in deep satisfaction.

_"Really. X'hal only knows how glad I am to see you, and how long I've wanted to do this."_

Then with no warning, Kormand'r dropped to one knee in front of her sister. She stuck her thumbs up under the coronet of the Supreme Ruler and pulled it free. She lowered it in front of her own eyes and gazed on it for a moment, then presented it in front of Koriand'r's baffled face.

_"I, Kormand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r, eldest child of the house of Myand'r, do abdicate and abjure the combined throne of Tamaran in favor of my younger sister, Koriand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r, Princess of the Blood Royal."_

Stunned, Koriand'r took the coronet into her hands by reflex so that it would not fall to the floor.

_"I do not understand . . ." _she started.

_"Simple. It's that bad," _her sister replied, looking up, her maimed face pale in the stark light of the situation room. _"I've pulled every dirty trick I can think of. I've hired every mercenary I can lay my hands on, and I've drafted every Tamaranian who can stand up, see lightning, and hear thunder, and it's not been enough. I've even had our scientists conferring with that big inventor fellow you ran with on Earth and he and our people have turned out war machines that give __me__ nightmares. We both know, of course, that if you manage to pull this off, I'll steal it back from you. But if something fantastic doesn't happen soon, in ten months there won't be anything to be Supreme Ruler of. I'm counting on you, Miss Priss, to do your little 'save the world' thing that you do."_

The brunette slowly rose back to her feet. _"It's so bad, sister dear, that I will cheerfully take the next transport back to Centauri and go back to jail with no objection if that's what you want. If you're smart, though, you'll keep me around as your Executive Officer. My head is so crammed with boring troop rosters, tedious deployment schedules and those dreary supply logistics charts that I'd be invaluable. I promise that I'll serve loyally until we win, and if we look like we're going to lose, I'll even give you five minutes' notice before I run for it."_

_"I . . . I do not know what to say," _Koriand'r began. _"Galfore, you are right. I do have some ambivalent feelings about Tamaran because of 'the slavery thing.' Kormand'r may have set it up, but my parents went along with it, Parliament approved it, and the people tolerated it. The Citadel are 'not nice.' It may be that I feel my obligation to Tamaran was relieved when our people bought peace with my life and my body."_

_Galfore said nothing. He merely looked at the floor._

**_"_**_But I am a Princess of the Blood, and I know my duty. And there is nothing left to tie me to Earth, now." _

_Koriand'r raised the cornet and placed it firmly on her own head._

_"I will do the best that I can. Kormand'r, you shall remain here as Adjutant General. Galfore, you shall be Privy Councilor. We will start with a strategic briefing. Give me the big picture first, and then we shall discuss the details. Have the guard send for wine and cold plates of food. It is going to be a long night."_

* * *

Jump City, CA

Raven finished her shower, pulled her sleep-shirt over her head and brushed her teeth. Then she walked out of the bathroom, turned left and found herself staring at the sealed door to the Changeling's room. She sighed and pressed her fingers against the nameplate. She'd been so very happy. As a child, she'd been told it wasn't safe for her to be happy at all. Then she's put all that time and energy into being able to feel. And she'd been so very happy. It seemed to have been for such a very short time, but they'd had almost three really good years. And the time before that had been . . . good too.

She sighed and turned back the other way, to her own, empty room.

Life in Titan Tower had changed utterly. For one thing, it was far, far quieter. Cyborg spent most of his time in his office or his garage, so as Raven wandered around the rest of the Tower she could hear a pin drop, most places. She became familiar with all of the mechanical sounds the Tower made as the HVAC system and the security system opened and close valves and relays. She also became familiar with the tops of all the cabinets door frames, consoles, and shelves. Because, really – dust.

"I never noticed how much dusting Starfire did," she thought, as she levitated up to the light fixtures for what seemed like the fifth time this month. They were just . . . filthy. And Cyborg never seemed to even . . . see it. If Raven ignored it, it stayed there until dust bunnies fell from them in _piles._

This is not to say that Raven felt that Cyborg wasn't doing his part around the Tower. In the quiet she really came to appreciate what it took to keep the large, complicated building going. Electrical repairs, HVAC maintenance, and structural repair – he did it all with no complaints. So Raven felt like a little dusting and vacuuming wasn't going to be beneath her.

And there was still the work. Raven and Cyborg spent a lot of their duty-time snagging bank robbers, saving crashing planes and runaway trains than chasing super villains, though. Nightwing had been right. The A-listers were currently all locked up or retired, and the B and C list crews could be scooped up with a flicker of dark energy and a sonic blast. Even the Hive – 5 hardly rated a snarky comment or a 'Boo-yah.'

It was a couple of weeks later that Cyborg had been a little startled. He's been sitting in his office chair idly throwing darts across the room when Raven had stuck her head in the door.

"Uuuum . . . hey."

He looked up. "Hey."

"So, I was just wondering . . . ? Do you feel like, maybe a round of Intergalactic Mega-Monkey Samurai Ninja's in Space XXIII, or something? Or maybe that racing game? You haven't played any since . . . since Robin left."

"Thanks Raven, but I don't think it would be quite the same. I mean, it's not really your thing, right?"

"No, not really," she said, flatly. "But you're my only friend. I just thought I should be trying to help make you happy."

Cyborg blinked at that.

"That's not right," he thought, reflecting quickly. "Raven's got plenty of friends. It's just that none of them are here right now."

He gave it some more thought. She'd gone through all of that work to reach out and connect to the rest of the team, and they'd all just run out on her. Just like . . . her mother. The monks of Azarath. Garth.

"Hey Raven," he said as she started to turn away. "Let's get out of here."

"Where are we going," said Raven as the T-car crossed the bridge into the City proper.

"We're going to see a friend of mine."

The T-Car pulled up to a stop beside a slightly run-down building in a slightly run down part of town.

"C'mon," said Cyborg.

The two friends climbed the short staircase and passed the brass nameplate: West Side School for the Handicapped.

"More community outreach?" Raven said.

"Not today," Cyborg replied.

They walked down a corridor and checked in at a tiny office.

The receptionist, a slender middle-aged woman with graying hair said, "Cyborg! How nice to see you. Sarah is in 312. I'll call someone to relieve her."

"Who's Sarah," asked Raven.

"I'm going to wait on that. I want you to meet her for yourself."

A moment later a pretty blond woman came out of the classroom.

"Victor!" she said in a delighted tone. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

"It was kinda a spur-of-the-moment thing. I wanted to introduce you to someone."

He looked over, but Raven had stepped back and pulled her hood up, steeping her face in shadow.

Exasperated, Cyborg reached up behind Raven and jerked the hood down, leaving her head uncovered. Tiny tendrils of silken purple hair drifted around Raven's head on the wings of static electricity. She shot him mildly venomous look, then turned to face Sarah, a polite, if low-wattage smile on her face.

"Hello, I'm Raven," she said.

"Sarah Simms," replied the blonde woman.

"Sarah," said Cyborg, "Is the lifestyle integration instructor here at the West Side School for the Handicapped."

"Lifestyle integration?"

Sarah made a face. "I don't like the title. I just help the kids get used to their prosthetics."

Cyborg smirked, "She teaches children that just because they've been changed by an accident, it doesn't mean that they can't have cool lives. She teaches them to walk again, play ball, and interact with the normal world. That because they have a difference, they're not bad or wrong."

"Victor makes a bigger deal of it than it is. You're the, um, magic-user on the Titans, right?"

Raven almost smiled at Sarah's effort not to call her a witch. She'd clearly been warned.

"A little. Mostly I try to help people while not scaring them."

Sarah looked at Raven shrewdly, taking in her body language, then reached out and took Raven's hand in her own.

"You're really into helping people? Then come to my class and talk to them."

She pulled on Raven's hand, drawing her to the classroom. "Raven, you're very different. You're not from around here, you look different, people don't understand you, but you are beautiful, intelligent, have friends and an amazing job. These kids need people like you for an example."

"But I – I – eeeeeeyeee!"

Before Raven's mind could formulate a useful defense while still being polite, Sarah had dragged her into the classroom, where twenty eight young children stared up at her with expressions of polite interest on her faces.

"Everyone, this is Raven, a friend of Mr. Victor's. She's come to say hello this morning."

"Hello, Raven," the class said in unison.

"Um, hi," said Raven, giving a little wave as a drop of sweat pearled up and then ran down the side of her face.

It had gone far better than Raven could have imagined, though. She'd perched on the edge of Ms. Simms desk for twenty minutes and the kids had asked her personal questions. She'd explained about being born with her own disability and the constant need to suppress it to keep from hurting people. She told them about the challenges of growing up looking different and how she tried to approach fitting in. Then she summed up.

"It would be nice if the world worked differently, but it doesn't. _I'm_ the one who's different, and I can't expect the world to change to suit me. That just leads to constant disappointment. But I have learned to adapt to the world, and I've had a very rewarding life."

As the two of them walked back to the car, Raven glanced sideways at Cyborg.

"Subtle," she said.

"You accuse _me_ of subtlety?" responding the big man.

"You knew Sarah would throw me to the wolves."

"I knew she never misses the chance to put someone 'different' in front of her class to show the kids that a life that's 'changed' is _not_ a life that's over. And yeah, there's nothing like being forced to count your blessing out loud and in front of people way worse off than you to put things into perspective."

Just then, both of their communicators started beeping wildly. The Titan alert was reporting a an out-of-control fire in the warehouse district.

"Well," said Raven, "'Once more into the breach?'"

"Titans, GO!" he replied.

* * *

[1] Italics indicate translation from Tamaranian.

[2] No relation to the United Federation of Planets exploratory station from _Encounter at Farpoint_. I just like the name.


	53. Fitting in in The City of the Angels

Shout Outs:

Jane Crocker – Thanks. I hope you keep reading.

Serenary Chiba – You're the second person to talk about 'details,' but I'm not sure what you guys mean.

TheForeIsStrongWithThisOne – Thanks. Details on Blackfire's mutilation in this chapter. No, Starfire will not be coming to Earth very soon. There's work to be done. Obligations to be met. Giant festering sores of pain to be denied and ignored. Busy, busy, busy.

Gyhy – No problem. I should have put a footnote in in the first place. I just thought EVERYBODY spoke hugmumble. Yes, there's a reason for Blackfire's maiming. I meant to include a scene in the last chapter and missed it, so there's an interlude at the beginning of this one.

Alister Nightfoot – _Welcome Wagon_ is the flagship of the Home Fleet, specifically charged with "greeting" anyone who comes into the system without invitation. I thought it a good name for the job.

Egg1 – No. No comas here.

St. Rhon – Justifiable? Maybe so, but that level of rejection applied to a baby girl is still gonna leave a mark.

TW – I freely admit to borrowing anyplace where there's something useful, but please point out the Star Wars reference. I'm not sure what you mean. (I'll cop to it. But I really don't know where it is.)

RandomDalmation326 – That was sort of the point. I couldn't think of anything I could have done to illustrate how dire the situation is for Tamaran than to have Galfore appeal to Kormand'r, and to have her, in turn, step aside for Koriand'r. As for KF and Jinx? Not too much. I'm having enough trouble keeping five Titans straight and busy, so they're mostly going to stay in the background, covering for all the missing primaries. And Cy and Bee are keeping it casual. Long-distance relationships are hard, especially if you try to be exclusive.

Randamwriter – Glad you liked it. Hoped you like the entrée to Blüdhaven.

Caprichoso – Review as often as you like. It's the only pay I get. I'm trying not to let my universe get too far removed from canon. The idea is to try to bring the characters through young adulthood and into full maturity. The DC universe actually has them frozen in place, with ages from young teen through early twenties. I hope to explore who they become in their adult lives. If we can all stand it that long.

Autredufantome – Nah. Just too much Sesame Street at an impressionable age.

00cLosetFreak00 – It will be a while. I've got a really, really dramatic series of reconciliation vignettes lined up, and the war on Tamaran is a key piece. But I have to have all of my pieces in position before I can act.

Chowbo – Thanks. Part of the point of this entire exercise was for Raven to find her humanity.

Ccfhikvfed – Dude. Did you just slam your keys down on your keyboard at random when picking your call sign? Glad you liked it.

Tatsumarusmith – Thanks. That helps, actually. I'm really looking forward to writing the reconciliation. I've actually started on it in my head. It's going to be epic. Or fall utterly flat.

Victorthe3rd – I've got some great scenes coming up for Starfire. She needs to formally take command of the troops. As to Raven – first she has to decide if she wants him. Only THEN can she go and GET him. And yeah. Men fuck up. Thanks, I'm glad you like it. This has been a really fruitful exercise for me overall. They're right when they say the only real training for writing is writing.

IanZakk – Thanks. Maybe one day someone will pay me for it!

JOHNXGambit – Thanks for sticking with me for so long.

V for anonymous – I wondered that myself in "Go!" When she made her escape from the Gordanian slave-transport, she flew faster than light to earth with no breathing apparatus. So I decided that if Cartoon Network could ignore it, so could I. So we're just gonna wave our hands and say that she can handle hard vacuum for extended periods and move on. Unless you WANT me to make something up.

Katwizzle – Kiss? Very soon. Make up? Maybe a little longer. Oh, wait. Kiss who?

Guest – Cy and Rae went out into the City to meet Sarah in the short period between when Robin left and Jinx and Kid Flash arrived. I may have bollixed up the timeline, but that was what was supposed to happen. They're on the ground and on duty in this chapter, though. I also explain Blackfire's maiming.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, things are banging on quite nicely here at the Fortress of the Fanfic that Will Not End. I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am, and that my characters are not moving too far from canon to be believable. We'll visit Tamaran only briefly in this Chapter. Most of our focus will be on LA. Garfield finds a very valuable new friend in an unlikely place. (Fanboys. They're everywhere.) There will then be a brief stop in Jump City. Looking farther down the road, we have a trip to Blüdhaven for Raven, a Convention for Garfield, and an urgent message home.

* * *

Interlude: Tamaran, The Royal Palace

Even in time of war, not _all _time can be spent fighting or in meetings. Rest and recreation are vital for both troops and leadership if they are not to go insane. The two people sat on a balcony, used food plates set to one side, wine goblets in hand. Between them lay a Jetan board, a Tamarnian game similar to chess. The game had been a bloody one, with most of the pieces gone from the board. Both players leaned back in their chairs and slowly sipped goblets of wine.

"Galfore," asked Koriand'r suddenly, "What happened to Kormand'r? Her face, I mean?"

The huge man replied, "She got just a little too close to a Gordanian brain-dicer during the withdrawal from Throndak-III. Your sister was leading from the front. She insisted on personally commanding the relief mission we sent to help with the evacuation."

"I just do not understand it. Why would she take such risks? She works so very hard, fights so very valiantly. All my life she has been wicked, duplicitous, and self-centered. She looks as though she is willing to die for Tamaran, and I cannot reconcile that with the selfishness that I have always known was her core." The young woman frowned. "I do not know if I can trust her."

Galfore answered. "Koriand'r, when she was born, Kormand'r was the first and eldest. By tradition and by law, she was to inherit and become Queen, and spent her early childhood believing it would be so. Then you came along and, because she could not summon up the Joy of Flight, she was passed over. In her mind, she was unjustly cheated. And that, my little bumgorf, has been the central fact of her life."

"All this," he gestured at the palace, the city, and the plains beyond, "to her mind is rightfully _hers._ Just as she was willing to do _anything_ to remove you from _her _rightful place as Queen, she is willing to do _anything_ to protect what she sees as _hers_ from the Gordanians. We desperately needed those troops on Throdak-III evacuated. They were going to be massacred by a gigantic Gordanian fleet in just a few days. When she was wounded, they could have saved her eye had she been evacuated to the hospital ship. She insisted that they cauterize it and give her a bandage so that she could get back into the fight. To re-grow her eye or deal with the scarring would take a month in deep sedation. A month she could not spare. So she remains maimed."

"I think," Galfore continued, "You can trust Kormand'r to _be Kormand'r._ You should plan accordingly."

Koriand'r frowned thoughtfully.

* * *

Los Angeles (Earth) –

It's funny how you meet people, sometimes. Garfield had taken to soaring high above the city in big figure eights, patrolling for trouble, and wasn't getting much business. He couldn't tell a mugging from people bumping into each other in the street. Lower down, he could find the trouble, but then the bad guys avoided him. There's nothing like a visible cop to keep down crime. He was embarrassed later when he thought of it: he bought a cheap police scanner and listened for reported trouble. It was on his first day monitoring the police bands that he heard a nasty situation.

A non-custodial father had run off with his six-year old daughter during an unsupervised visitation. The mom had subsequently reported the child kidnapped, and when the dad was accosted by police, he'd run. Now he was barricaded inside a small frame house with his child and a gun.

Garfield banked to the southwest and headed toward the South Figueroa Corridor. The pterodactyl's face creased in concern. He was pretty sure that the 28th Street Elementary School was near there. It was easy to see where the problem was. A massive number of police cars and news trucks had descended upon the heavily Hispanic neighborhood. Law enforcement had surrounded tiny faded pink bungalow. The small post-War home was surrounded with a decorative white iron fence and had a small but well-maintained. On one side of the house, a lone adolescent banana tree waved its fronds in the breeze, while on the other side a lush herb garden lined the driveway. A small concrete patio took up much of the front yard. A small picnic table with umbrella sat in the center. The roof displayed an old-school TV antenna, while a battered, faded Mexican flag fluttered from the eaves of the tiny home.

"This," thought Garfield as he morphed into his human form, "could go badly at any moment."

He located the command truck.

"Excuse me sir," he said to the lead officer. "My name's Changeling, and I'm here to help."

"Sir," replied a uniformed officer nearby. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back. And how did you get past the ropes, anyway?"

"Oh, well, see I'm one of the Teen Titans from Jump City and I thought . . ."

"Sir, please get behind the ropes. I don't want to have to arrest you for impeding our operation."

"But I . . ."

"Sir!"

Garfield sighed and stepped outside the ropes. He looked around. Nearby was a frustrated TV reporter.

"Hi!" he said.

She ground her teeth and turned to face him. "What?" she said. Then she started, blinking.

"You're Beast Boy, aren't you?"

"They call me Changeling, now. What's going on?"

She frowned. "They won't tell me anything, but it looks like they're about to go in with overwhelming force."

"Isn't it, like one dude with a pistol and a little girl?"

"Yeah, well, the LAPD isn't known for subtlety. My name's Susan, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Susan. So, they're sure it's just the one guy?"

"Yes."

"Okay – I think I'm about to get myself in trouble."

Changeling morphed into a green housefly and flickered past the police cordon unchallenged. He flew around the side of the house, and, finding a crack next to the dryer vent, entered the house unseen.

He quickly buzzed to the living room and clung to the crown molding around the top of the walls, watching. The man was Hispanic, and clearly middle aged. He hadn't shaved in a day or so, and his eyes were a little wild. Changeling could smell the fear on him, but that wasn't news. Anyone could tell that the man was terrified. He paced back and forth like a caged tiger. He wore blue jeans and a T-shirt with a faded logo of the La Senda Antigua church on it. He licked his lips and breathed heavily.

In the corner was a little girl, about four or five years old. Her eyes were bloodshot. She's clearly been crying, but otherwise seemed ok. Really, really scared, but okay.

The man continued to pace, muttering. "Es mi hijo. ' T sólo llevar a niños de un hombre."

"Yeah," thought Changeling. "I got this."

The housefly dropped away from the ceiling and buzzed toward the man. He waited until the gun was pointed away from the child and down at the floor in case there was an accident, and then turned into an adult octopus. With an arm span of nine feet and a weight of 200 pounds, he completely engulfed the startled man's head and shoulders, blinding him and cutting off his airflow. At the same time, he whipped one arm around his gun hand, locking the revolver cylinder in place with crushing force. Unable to rotate the cylinder, the gun would be unable to fire. He wrapped four arms around the man's upper arms and torso, and that left three more arms to carefully pry the firearm from the hands of the increasingly panicy man and drop it to the floor. Changeling then morphed into a gorilla, who gently folded the man's arms into a double-chicken-wing wrestling hold. Then he morphed into his human form and whispered.

"Easy now. Fight's over. Calm down."

The man thrashed and struggled, throwing the two of them to the cheap Berber carpet with a soft thump.

"C'mon man, it's over!"

He wrenched the struggling man around to face the little girl.

"Look Dude! She's scared to death. Is this what you want for your daughter? Is this how you want her to see her? What is _with_ you? Was scaring your little girl on your 'To Do' list when you got up this morning?"

The man froze. The little girl was curled up in the corner, wide eyed, her face tracked with tears. She stared at her father unblinking. Her lower lip quivered.

He froze. His head lowered as he slowly relaxed. "No," he said, in accented English. "Scaring the little girl is never on the list of things to do today."

"I get it Dude. They are taking away your kids. That's not okay for any dad. But this wasn't the way to fix it."

"They're letting her mother move all the way across the country. Here, I have – had – a job. Friends. Standing in the community. Her mother moves to be with her new boyfriend. And they are just letting her take my child."

"It's not right. But this is making it worse. Do you really think there's any way that bunch is going to let you walk free? And if they do, how will you live? What kind of life can you offer your daughter now? I swear – you let me walk you out of here safe, and I will do everything I can to help you."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Dude, do you have a choice?"

The man relaxed and Changeling let him go.

"I'll go out first," Changeling said, "and I'll carry the girl. You come out with your hand behind your head after me. They won't shoot."

The man looked at Garfield with narrowed eyes, then nodded.

It all went smoothly, right up the point that the LAPD arrested Changeling for interfering in a police operation.

Garfield set in the back of the police car while his fellow prisoner glared out him.

"How you gonna help me now, eh?"

"Dude, you are like 10,000 percent better off than you were ten minutes ago. Now there's nobody pointing guns at us. When we get to the police station, I'll be able to call my associates and they'll get us lawyers."

But it was both simpler and more complicated than that. As they were being manhandled into Parker Center, a voice spoke sharply but delightedly.

"Garfield Login? Really? Back in LA?"

Garfield looked around. There was a portly, middle aged man just coming out a nearby door, surrounded by other men in suits. He was dressed richly but conservatively. Not an expert, Garfield estimated that the tailor-made suit the man was wearing probably cost between two and three thousand dollars. He had elegantly coiffed steel grey hair and was somewhat portly. His eyes were ice-blue and he wore no facial hair. The man left his entourage and walked briskly up to Garfield and stuck out a well-manicured hand. Unable to move his handcuffed hand, Garfield started to speak.

"Mayor," interrupted the arresting officer, "This man is under arrest for interfering in a police investigation."

"Garfield Logan? Interfering with a police operation? He's not under arrest. Un-cuff him."

"Seriously sir?"

"He's an actor, not a desperado. Cut him loose."

"Actor?" thought Changeling as the handcuffs were remove and the rest of the officers moved off.

"Um, thanks?" he said to the man, sticking out his hand.

"Nice to meet you Mister Logan. I'm Charles Fox, Mayor of Los Angeles. Welcome to our city, but I guess it's your city, too, you were born here, right?"

"Um, sure . . . "

"So, you're here for the Con, right? I mean, you're coming to the Con. You gotta come to the Con."

"Con? Wait, I . . . ?"

"SpaceTrek: Forever, the big national _SpaceTrek: 1999_ Convention. Thousands of people are coming from all over the country."

"Thousands of people . . . But we only had the one season!"

"But it was a _great_ season. I remember the great scene you had with Captain Richardson in Episode 34 – 'The Challenge.' It changed my life. Inspired me to go into politics."

Garfield scratched his head. As far as he could recall, the only line he'd had in "The Challenge" at all was, "The boosters are installed, sir."

"Listen," the Mayor babbled on, "I'm on the board for 'SpaceTrek: Forever,' and we're having a hard time getting talent to show up. We're pretty much stuck with a pile of redshirts who died before the second commercial break, a broken down writer, and a retired special effects technician. C'mon!"

He looked pointedly at the retreating back of the arresting officer. "You do kind of owe me a favor."

Garfield shrugged. "Sure. I'm not doing anything this weekend."

And that was how Garfield made friends with the Mayor of Los Angeles.

"Who knew?" he thought. "I mean, I guess you find geeks anywhere, but the dude must have been 20 when SpaceTrek:2020 had been on the air, and we only had the one season."

He didn't like to really admit it, but he'd been an over-eager 12 year old green shape shifter who had been hired to play an over-eager 12-year-old green shape shifter. It hadn't actually been much of a stretch of his acting chops. But he'd had fun, and he'd gotten paid until _Star Trek_ and _Space:1999 _had pretty much sued them out of business. It had been after that he'd come to understand that the roles for green shape shifters were rare.

"Oh, well," he thought, "I'm not in jail, and maybe the Con will be fun. But first, I need to call Questor about a family law lawyer and criminal law lawyer for my cell-mate."

* * *

Interlude  
Tamaran, the Royal Palace

_"Galfore,"_ said Koriand'r. _"I have a special task for you. You are not to use any of the normal Royal or State channels. Do not access the military network. Instead, I wish for you to only to speak to other knorfkas. I wish to meet with thirty of them – the very best of the field."_

_"That will be hard, Princess. Times being what they are, they will not want to leave the children they are guarding and training."_

_"Make it happen, Galfore. It is a matter of life and death."_

_"Yes, Princess." _

"_And have_ _Korgar Etann-Fossh, Captain of the High Guard survey vessel _Victory _recalled and report directly to me. He is to be detached to the Royal Guard. Let his job be "Fleet Liaison." _

* * *

Jump City, CA – Earth

The four Titans sat around the T-shaped table in the common room as Cyborg went over the patrol schedule for the coming week. There was a loud but not unpleasant tone, and the giant TV screen snapped on. Nightwing's stern face filled the panel.

"Hi, guys," he said. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Hey R – Nightwing," said Cyborg. "Just going over the new patrol schedule. What's up?"

"I need to ask a favor," said the dark hero.

"You know I'll help if I can," said the machine-man.

"I was wondering if Raven would be willing to come out to Blüdhaven for a week or so. One of the syndicates is getting ready to make an attempt to take over the city's vice industry. They've brought in some sort of Voodoo or Hoodoo priestess from the Caribbean. And it seems like she's more than just talk."

Raven said, "A Voodoo Priestess would be using thaumaturgy. A Hoodoo Queen would be using necromancy. Either is dangerous."

"I know enough about them to know when I'm in over my head. If I'm going to thump heads, I need someone slinging counter-spells. Or whatever. Batman suggested Zatanna, but I'd rather have the sorceress I know. No offense Jinx."

The fuschia-haired hex-mistress waved carelessly. "None taken, R-Nightwing. You've worked with Raven a lot more, and besides. Blüdhaven: dark, gritty, filthy, and no decent shopping. Ew."

Raven looked over at Cyborg, "I'm okay with it."

"Hey Dude, you don't have to . . ."

"It's your team now Cyborg. Can you spare her?"

"You were right about this town, Nightwing. We've got it sewn up. The three of us can more than hold down the fort for a week or so."

"I'll get packed," said Raven. "If I'm going to be facing ritual magic, I'm going to need a few things. I'll be ready to leave in a couple of hours."

Raven went to her room and opened the medieval chest that held her ritual spell casting gear and began to pack it into a hardside suitcase. When that was done she went to her closet to grab a couple of leotards and a spare pair of elf boots when she stopped short. The silk dress was scarlet, and so _not _her color, but Rita had insisted it was perfect. It had a modest but alluring bustline, narrow waist, and shoulders with tiny pleats. There were black stocking and red, strappy sandals to go with it. And, perhaps, best of all, Garfield had never seen her in it. She stroked the wildly inappropriate material, not thinking. Definitely not thinking about anything at all. Nightwing probably knew some nice places to eat. Maybe. When the work was done. She'd just toss in this dress, you know, just in case.

With great care not to wrinkle the delicate silk, Raven carefully folded the dress in the hard case with the spell casting gear. It would not do to stuff Rita's gift in a gym bag. No, no it would not.


	54. Discoveries

Shoutouts:

Irishfan62 – We'll find out in this chapter.

Gyhy – Really, you're waaaay to kind. My Spanish isn't "terrible." It's non-existent! In fact, the amount of suck my Spanish has is soooo huge that NASA is still trying to estimate it's mass. I enjoyed writing the Con, but the chapter was so long that I didn't get to go into the details that I wanted.

Thowell3 – Well, I'd be sorry to lose you for any reason. I've really enjoyed the commentary and I've learned a lot.

Arashikage1988 – Wow. Sorry you're so unhappy with the art. I'm using the platform to polish my dialogue as well as to see some of the stories no one else seem to want to write. As to flamey? Meh – my profile sez I was born wearing asbestos underwear. Always speak your mind, and plainly.

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne – Oh yeah? Bet I can make it work. Sort of.

Chowbo – Hizhonner isn't strange. He's just a fanboy, all grown up and wearing a suit!

JOHNXGambit – Don't worry about the red dress. I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix everything, I swear!

Shadico – Haven't you ever, you know, went to a bar that served cocktails just right, but the food wasn't for you, so you ate your entrée and dessert somewhere else? It's kind of like that. Don't worry, it's going to be okay.

IanZakk – I've got to admit, I was tempted to pander. I really was. But in the end I did what I had planned, and only pandered in that there is no cliffhanger regarding Raven, Nightwing, and Blüdhaven. I've resolved that in this chapter, rather than split it into two.

Shugokage – Glad you liked it. Must have been lonely for you. Yeesh.

Katwizzle – That would be telling!

Theluckyshot – You're right. I've seen that happen, too. Fortunately, I'm in a better position to juggle the outcome. It may not be as realistic as some of the other things I've written. Call it my projection of how I'd like the world to work. Back and forth? Oh hell no. Like I said about the "now the OTHER ONE isn't available" story cycle in the Dresden Files, I won't be doing that either. No, that particular relationship is . . . addressed entirely in this chapter.

TheBlueRingOfHope – I hope this chapter is more up to snuff.

Otacku03 – I'm glad you're still having fun. Seems like you're one of two or three people who still like the tale.

Egg1 – But, really, when you think about it, haven't Raven and Robin been 'together' since "Haunted?" I mean, part of her LIVES inside his mind.

Satanic Fudge – "Wacist?" Not getting the reference, sorry.

TW – Yeah, the law is often written in an unflattering light. I've been trying to avoid that, but it's unavoidable if you're going to Blüdhaven. It has to be a wretched hive of scum and villainy.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Phew. Talk about the week of pitchforks and torches. And tar and feathers. My readers are quite the unhappy crew. But in a way, it's good news, really. It means that you are still reading and you do care about the characters I'm custodian of. I almost caved and pandered. I have decided to drop a number of different concepts I wanted to explore to get on with the central plot. Fret not about the shattered relationships. I promise: I'm going to fix them. Bonus: the fixing starts in this chapter. In fact, I'll make one other commitment: I will be reuniting most of the Titans in the next chapter, and I may manage all five of them. (Whether it takes one chapter or two depends on the word count.)

* * *

Interlude

Tamaran – The Throne Room of Combined Tamaran, Present Day

The top tier military officers not directly engaged with the enemy were there. The two highest levels of the Tamaranian nobility stood in the room as well. The event was covered live by the news media, and broadcast on military channels as well. Finally, a tight-beam laser-transmission was sent to the closet known Gordanian listening post. Starkly lit with cool, white light, the giant room was lined with round pillars. It was all clean, smooth lines. Nothing was fluted, frothy, or fancy. Painted in earth tones and whites, it was a throne room for warriors, not courtiers. The walls were lined with steel-armored palace guards, their ceremonial halberds at ready, and pistols discreetly on their belts. A wide crimson carpet stretched from the large bronze double doors, up the stairs of the dais, stopping only at the foot of the single throne. The High Priestess of X'hal entered by the side door that led to the temple as was usual and proper for the traditional coronation ceremony. What happened next was neither usual nor proper. Murmurs began to run around the room as it was noticed that she had no entourage, and was not bearing the Coronet of the Supreme Ruler.

Koriand'r wanted _everyone_ to see this. She'd spent almost an entire day beating a concept into the bandmaster of the palace orchestra, but once he'd come to understand the symbolism behind it, and seen the power in the arrangement, he'd consented, and spent the next three days coercing his people into a powerful performance. The Princess had brought back from earth some music among her keepsakes, and she would have her way for her coronation processional.

The High Priestess strode over to the dais and, without mounting the stairs, dropped a low courtesy to the throne and took a place near the front of the throng. She did not speak, but waited. The low strings vibrated in the musician's loft, and the huge doors trembled, then opened to reveal Koriand'r, standing alone. She already wore the coronet of the Supreme Ruler, and the face beneath it was stark. She wore a white gown with a steel armored bodice and armored pelvic girdle. On her left hip rode an antique sword of plain design with a well-worn grip. Koriand'r strode forward at a stately walk, looking like a woman who was exactly where she was supposed to be, and in utter command of the situation. As she strode forward, the strings stirred louder, and the low horns began to rumble. The sound was distinctly un-Tamaranian, but any human, certainly any German would have instantly recognized the sound of _Die Walküre Akt 3_. Young humans will forever associate the melody with the phrase "Kill da wabbit!" but that is only because they've never heard it live. If done properly, it should leave the audience wondering and hoping that the original contractor put enough rebar in the foundations of the Palace. Finally, after she was twenty feet down the way, Kormand'r, Galfore, and Fleet Liaison Captain Korgar Etann-Fossh entered behind her. Unescorted she paced across the rich carpet as Wagner's rolling horns and thundering brass sang the song of Wotan the All-Father's Takers of the Slain. For a dramatic entrance, you just can't beat _The Ride of the Valkyries._ Koriand'r strode to the dais and up the steps without stopping. There was more murmuring. She should have been preceded by the High Priestess of X'hal. She stopped in front of the throne and turned smartly. Her gown flared as she spun, and then settled as she seated herself. She raised a fist, and the music cut off immediately. Utter silence reigned. As one, Kormand'r, Galfore, and Etann-Fossh all dropped to one knee. Koriand'r stared flintily at the assembled crowd until, one by one, each took a knee.

_"__People of Tamaran,"_ she began loudly. _"There will be no coronation. As you can see, I already wear the coronet of the Supreme Ruler. I do this __by my will alone__. If anyone wishes to challenge my right to do so, let him do so now. I will have no time for such nonsense later on."_

No one moved. A few eyes strayed to Kormand'r, who kneeled silently, eyes closed, her chin on her chest.

_"__Very well. My people, all that you hear about Tamaran not wanting to fight, that we're losing the war, is a lot of blortworm crap. Tamaranians love to fight. All real Tamaranians love the sting and clash of battle. Tamaranians love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Tamaranians play to win all the time. That's why we will not lose this war. Battle is the most significant competition in which a warrior can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base._

_All through your training you have bitched about what you call 'this thordak-shit drilling.' That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant alertness. If not, some Gordanian son-of-a-bitch will sneak up behind you and you beat you to death with a sock full of shit. But there are four million neatly marked graves on Silanesti - V, all because one man went to sleep on the job—but they are Gordanian graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before his officer did._

_Why, by X'hal, I actually pity these poor bastards we're going up against._

_Every single man in the armada plays a vital role. Never think that your job is unimportant. What if every transport driver decided that he didn't like the whine of the plasma-lances and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' What if every man said that? No, thank X'hal, Tamaranians don't say that. One of the bravest men I saw in the Sordan campaign was on a communications pole in the midst of furious fire while we were moving toward the Capital. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing up there. He answered, 'Fixing the wire, m'lady.' 'Isn't it a little unhealthy up there right now?' I asked. 'Yes m'lady, but this goddamn wire has got to be fixed.' I asked, 'Don't those aircraft strafing the road bother you?' And he answered, 'No m'lady', but you sure as hell do.' Now, there was a real warrior. A warrior who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty appeared at the time._

_Sure, we want to get this war over with. But you can't win a war lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to get the bastards who started it. We want to get the hell out there and clean the X'hal-damn thing up, and then get at those purple-pissing Gordies. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Gordania. So keep moving. And when we get to Gordania, I am personally going to beat that paper-hanging son-of-a-bitch Kreegaar to death with my own two hands._

_When a warrior is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a Gordanian will get him eventually. The hell with that. My warriors don't dig foxholes. Keep moving. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, we're going to rip out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy bastards by the bushel._

_I don't want any messages saying 'I'm holding my position.' We're not holding a X'hal-damned thing. We're advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding anything except the enemy's balls. We're going to hold him by his balls and we're going to kick him in the ass; twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to advance and keep on advancing. _

_There will be some complaints that we're pushing our people too hard. I don't give a damn about such complaints. I believe that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder we push, the more Gordanians we kill. The more Gordanians we kill, the fewer of our warriors will be killed. Pushing harder means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that. I want warriors like the lieutenant on Arboria who, with a pistol against his chest, swept aside the gun with his hand, jerked his helmet off with the other and busted the hell out of the Gordanian with the helmet. Then he picked up the gun and he killed another Gordanian. I want them to rise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl 'It's the goddamned Tamaranians and that crazy bitch Koriand'r again!'_

_Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandchild on your knee and they ask, 'What did you do in the Great War?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy shoveled in the spice mines of Rythos.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy rode to the sound of the guns with the Great Armada, and that psycho bitch Koriand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r!_

_All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. _

The roar of the crowd split the night. All over the Fleet, that home system of Tamaran, and out past the frontier cheers rang out. Men banged on tabletops, savage warriors embraced one another and many a flagon of wine was hoisted in celebration of the new Supreme Ruler.

The Supreme Ruler herself rose swiftly from her seat, saluted the populace, and exited the room followed by her tiny entourage. The small anteroom was lit only by small, indirect lamps. The cast a lambent yellow light down the earth-tone walls and spilling into little pools on the floor.

_"__Nice speech, little sister,"_ said Kormand'r. "_I especially liked the profanity. Write it yourself?"_

_"__No,"_ said Koriand'r. _"It is from a great general on Earth. I learned of it when I was trying to fit in."_

_"__Well,"_ said Galfore, _"Between the music and the generaling, you must have brought the best of Earth with you."_

_"__No,"_ she replied. She _turned away, to gaze out the window toward the stars. "I did not. The best of Earth is no longer mind to call upon. I wish it was. All that remains is a few keepsakes and souvenirs."_

* * *

Los Angeles (Earth) – Present Day

Saturday morning Garfield dressed in jeans, a grey mock turtle and a tan blazer. It was a great morning to be awake in Los Angeles. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the northerly winds had blown most of the smog out to sea, leaving clear skies and puffy clouds at high altitudes. The light had that odd quality that had originally brought the old movie studios to southern California. The colors of the landscape seem bolder, and more vivid than he rememberd from his time up north. He wasn't really sure what they would be expecting at the _SpaceTrek: Forever_ con, but he's spent the night before trying to remember interesting stuff about the production. He hadn't written a speech, but he'd made a few notes.

A limo pulled up to the door of the house. The doorbell rang. Garfield opened the door and looked down. She was about 4'10" tall. Garfield felt a brief pang in his stomach. He hadn't seen a woman that small since Raven.

He sighed.

Fortunately, the resemblance ended there. The young woman, girl, really, looked to be about 17 years old, tops. Caucasian, she was carrying probably about 10 pounds of weight she didn't need, leaving her attractively curvy, but with a roundish face. She wore her strawberry-blonde hair pulled straight back in a pony-tail secured by a rather unfashionable green hair scrunchie. She wore a pale blue _SpaceTrek: Forever_ logoed sport shirt and blue jeans. Her face was slightly blotchy and sported a few pimples inexpertly concealed. She wore vintage horn rim hipster glasses.

"Mr. Logan," she cried, "Hi! I'm Harriet. I won the short straw! I get to be your handler. Don't worry, I know all the service passages around the LA Convention Center, I have a passkey that will open most of the doors, and I know where all the bathrooms are!"

"Um, great," he replied. "And call me Garfield, I guess, or Changeling. Mr. Logan makes me think of my Dad."

Her face immediately fell, "Oh," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

He blinked. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't mean to bring up your parents. I mean, you were already an orphan when you came to _SpaceTrek2020. _I hope you're not too mad."

"No, I'm not mad at all. I just meant that you make me feel old. I'm not _that _much older than you. How did you know about my parents?"

As they climbed into the back of the limo she brightened a little. "Really? Oh, everybody knows that. It's in your bio. You're 5' 10, you weigh 180 pounds. You're 22 years old. You were born in the Cedar Sinai Hospital here in Los Angeles. Your favorite food is tofu, your favorite pizza topping is a mixed of aged cheddar and authentic mozzarella, and your favorite flavor of ice cream is rocky road."

He blinked again. "Ok, he thought. That's a little creepy."

The car wended its way through LA traffic to the Convention Center and Harriet whipped him through the VIP registration line in no time flat. Before he knew it, he was standing in the wings of a makeshift stage in West Hall B. The room was _huge, _and decorated in the cool whites and blues the set dresser had chosen for the _SpaceTrek_ fleet. The cool white light illuminated the huge, mixed crowd of fans. From eleven year olds accompanied by their bored parents, to geeky looking forty-somethings, the crowd was diverse and excited.

The master of ceremonies spoke, "And now, I'd like to present Los Angeles' own Garfield Logan!"

Garfield stepped over to the microphone and a sudden wall of noise almost knocked him over. He actually stepped back from the podium in surprise. The hall was filled with a roar of approval. It was like Tokyo all over again. A spotlight came on and bathed him in golden glow.

"Huh," he thought, "Maybe I _have_ been in the wrong line of work."

With no time to prepare an actual speech, Garfield had thrown out a couple of his favorite memories, and then started taking questions. The back and forth with the fans was fun, they were all respectful and polite, and they _laughed at his jokes._ That was new. Later on he sat on a panel, and to his great relief remembered the extras and the special effects guy and the four of them were able to riff off of each other at the expense of the (absent) headliners.

There was a VIP lunch, and then he signed autographs for most of the afternoon. Who was getting paid to duplicate those old 8 x 10 glossies of his twelve year old self?

"I mean," he thought, "it's not like I need the money or anything, but if somebody's getting rich off of my image, I ought to at least know about it."

At the end of the autograph period he found himself in the possession of a business card belonging to a _very_ curvy young woman in a "Lieutenant Prince" outfit. The old lycra suits were reproduced by fans in spandex, and the woman had the Body to Get Away with it. The outfit had a short skirt, black go-go boots, and an elaborate woven blonde checkerboard hairdo. After the VIP dinner (open bar) he found himself free of his handler and in a complimentary VIP suite. The room was dark, full of leather furniture and tiny little spotlights that cast warm pools of light on the surfaces of the sleek modern furniture. A little tipsy, and very lonely, Garfield made the call.

As it happened, she was available, and came up to play. Her name was Alicia, and she's wanted to play a game of "Lt. Prince teaches the young shape shifter about life." After all, she was dressed for it. It wasn't Garfield's thing, but hey, she was his guest, right?

It was fun until she leaned in to kiss him, hard, with enthusiasm and more than a little skill. He responded as best he could, but after about five minutes she sat back.

"You with someone aren't you?" she said, looking at him archly.

"No!" he said. "I'm single."

She just stared at him, eyebrow raised.

"It's still kinda new. It's only been a few weeks," he said, sighing. "And I . . . I guess, I'm not over her."

"Actually," she said, "It's been over three months."

He goggled. "How did you . . . "

"Tabloids."

"Oh, right. I guess so."

She looked at him, looking so sad and despondent. This was _not _how she planned to spend her last evening at the Con. Alicia sighed and went over to the mini-bar, cracking open a bottle of criminally over-priced mediocre wine and pouring two glasses.

"I've probably had enough already," he said.

"Shhhh . . ." she replied. "It's just to give you something to do with your hands and something to stare at so you don't have to make eye contact. Now: tell me about it."

Many, many years later, when Garfield wrote his memoirs he would observe that while he was unaware of how he did it, he was grateful to whatever it was about him that attracted women of great character.

And so he began at the beginning, and told the whole story, from his first attraction to Raven through the big dramatic 'reveal' at the end.[1] It took the best part of the night, and false dawn was visible in the east when he finished up.

"Wow," said Alicia. "Did you call her Mom a whore, piss in her underwear drawer, and set fire to her couch on your way out, too? I'm asking because those are the only things I can think of that you failed to do wrong the whole way. Did you _really_ have to out yourself?"

"Yes," he said, "Starfire can't keep secrets. For five minutes. At least, not from the four of us."

"Well," she said, "Raven sounds like an amazing lady. I'm not surprised you're not over her. So what are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean? She won't talk to me. I figure its over."

"Have you called Starfire?"

"No!"

"Why so emphatic?"

"Well, Raven . . .," he trailed off.

"You don't want to hurt Raven if she finds out. Uh-huh. You need to have a long talk with yourself and figure out if you _really_ think it's over. If it _is,_ you've left your friend Starfire alone and unsupported for no good reason. If it _isn't,_ you're wasting your time down here in LA when your _life_ is up in Jump City."

"I haven't really thought about it. Or her for several weeks," said Garfield.

"And yet you won't call Starfire, and you can't make out with me. Listen Garfield Logan, let me clue you in to a couple of facts: you've known her more than half your life. You were _together _for almost a quarter of your life. Are you really prepared to just let that go without at least making your case?"

She smiled, rising from the couch. "Decide what you want, then act."

She stood, picked up her tri-corder and slung it over her shoulder.

"You've got my number. Call me when you get your head straightened out, either way. I'll rock your world if it's no. Or I could always use a new friend if it's yes."

He blinked. "I've never friend-zoned a girl before."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's easier on us. We can always find sex somewhere else."

Then she headed out the door.

* * *

Blüdhaven (Earth), Present Day

The warehouse was built out over the harbor. At low water, the tidal flats beneath the building were a plain of stinking pluff mud, smelling of dead fish, rotting seaweed, and despair. The place was dimly lit, the scattered dusty bulbs near the high ceiling casting intermittent beams of light down to the floor. The stark contrast between the pools of light and shadow threw a confusing maze of murk across the space.

The fight had gone about how Raven had expected. Mama Ragna had turned out to be a thaumaturge. The bad guys had gotten hold of one of Nightwing's hairs during a previous fight. Ragna had used it to construct a Nightwing doll that she then dipped in mud and dried with a hot, dry wind.

Raven had watched from the catwalk of the run-down warehouse appalled as the mob boss, a fat man named Tony Cosimo, guffawed as Nightwing was slowly lowered into the mud pit. And then the lady, as they say, went to work. A sterling silver bowl, clear spring water . . . and a couple of other ingredients. The five candles she lit last, lest the light give away her position before the counter-spell was ready. Then the invocation.

"Accipite hancmagicam etavertet eamin se ipsum!"

Her voice rang out loud and clear in the musty space, and the crooks down on the floor looked around wildly. With a psychic "snap," Raven's counter spell took effect.

There was a pulse and crunch from the mud pit at first. Mama Ragna's eyes went wide as she felt the spell turn on her. Before she could act, the moist earth in the mud pit rose up and wrapped itself around her, hardening to a crust almost instantly, leaving only her eyes exposed, wide and terrified.

The mud pit shifted and seethed. Then something rose. Most of the mud sluiced away as Nightwing opened his eyes. He spat out a mouthful of dirt and seaweed. His eyes narrowed, and he burst from the pit. What followed was smooth, elegant, and brutally violent. Nightwing seemed to be everywhere. Punching, kicking, flipping, spinning . . . the merger of acrobatics and martial arts brought a graceful mayhem to the poorly maintained building. In less than three minutes he had managed to fill the floor with writhing, groaning piles of aching musclemen. He shook his hair out of his eyes and looked up at the catwalk.

"Thanks for all the help," he said sardonically.

"Help? You looked like you were doing fine to me. 'Sling counter spells' you said. So that's what I did. And now," Raven continued as she vaulted over the railing, "You owe me dinner. And not a couple of chili dogs from 'the best food wagon in town,' either."

"Ok, ok. Wait," he said, turning back to Mama Ragna. He walked over to the prostrate woman in her cocoon of dried mud. He looked into her eyes and reached down. He carefully grasped her clay-encrusted nose and twisted carefully. The clay coating broke and crumbed away from her nostrils. She inhaled deeply and began panting through her nose, still unable to speak or breathe through her mouth.

"I almost forgot," he said to her. "Too much longer and that might have been it for you. Next time I might not remember at all. When you get out of jail, stay out of my town."

He extended his arm to Raven, who looped hers through his and they walked in tandem out of the hideout. In the distance sirens could be heard.

"Won't the police just turn them loose?" Raven asked.

"Not this time." Nightwing gestured to the news vans that were already approaching. "I've learned to call the media first. It makes it much harder for 'clerical errors' to turn them loose."

They reached his bike. "I really need a shower. Then dinner, ok?"

She nodded and got onto the second seat, grasping him firmly about the waist, her feet on the rear footpegs.

Nightwing's lair in Blüdhaven was nothing like the Batcave or Titan Tower. He simply rented a basement apartment in a building that Batman owned through a series of shell corporations. The only "heroic" thing about it was the micro-garage. Working nights he was able to break a hole through the basement wall into an abandoned storm drain that the city had sealed off years before. There he had a small workbench, bike storage, and a place to store his costume apart from his day life. In the one-bedroom apartment, Raven had been sleeping in his bed, and Nightwing had been crashing on his couch in front of the large-screen TV that doubled as a computer monitor.

Nightwing favored "task lighting." There were several floor lamps and side table lamps in each room. Each lamp cast a small pools of warm light in the small ocean of gloom that was the living room/kitchen.

"You want the shower first?" Nightwing asked.

Raven looked him up and down. When he moved, crumbles of Mama Ragna's mud continued to flake off of him, and as he walked, puffs of dust rose from his clothes.

"No thanks. You first. You need it most."

"Thanks."

Nightwing made short work of his shower and called to Raven, who slipped through his bedroom and into the empty shower. More brightly lit than the living room, Nightwing's bedroom was still in shadow. The bedside lamp shone warmly on his skin as she lingered in the doorway for a moment. Nightwing's back was to the door as he shuffled through his dresser. Her eyes roved over his body. Nightwing was so active that he maintained his body under five percent body fat. All the swinging from rooftops and acrobatics left him with a heavily developed set of shoulders and upper back. The low body fat led to clear muscle definition. She blinked, then retreated into the shower and closed the door.

Nightwing had been sitting on his couch browsing Youtube for funny stupid villain clips for forty minutes when Raven finally emerged from his bedroom.

"Okay," she said insouciantly.

He looked over, and then did a quick double take. His former team-mate was wearing a calf-length dress the color of new blood that hugged her body like a scarlet flame. Here and there at critical points were small patches of black lace: the neckline, the hem, and the shoulder straps. He looked down at his own jeans, sneakers, sport shirt, and zip-up hoodie.

"If you'll excuse me," he said with a slight touch of vinegar, "I appear to be under-dressed."

He re-appeared moments later in tan slacks, a white shirt with an open collar, and a black leather jacket. Still casual, but far classier.

"I'm afraid there's going to be a little walk," he said as they stepped out into the night air. "You're not dressed for the bike, and it wouldn't be smart to catch a cab right outside my place."

"Trying to maintain a secret ID?" she asked as they walked.

"Yes," he replied. "I've got a part-time job tending bar a few blocks away. The pay is shite, and the place is a dump, but the clientele keep me up to speed on the local crime-bosses."

He looked down the street. "There's a big hotel a couple of blocks away. We'll use the cab stand there."

"What name are you using?"

Nightwing smiled a small, wicked smile. "Jason Todd. I'm planning to get fired for insubordination when I'm done with the bartending job."

Raven laughed. "Jason's gonna love that when he finds out."

Nightwing had not had _much_ time for dating since he had come to Blüdhaven, but as man does not live by bread alone, he _had_ scouted out a few discreet places in town where a man in a harlequin mask can get some discreet privacy, at least as long as he is packing an American Express Platinum card. Luigi's was just such a place. From the outside it looked like a dump, but once through the door, it could have been a top drawer Italian restaurant from any Hollywood film. Softly lit, the place was decorated as though five Italian grandmothers had moved into a single two bedroom apartment, and all had refused to part with a single tchotchke. The owner "Luigi," met them at the door. "Luigi" was a 75-year-old man from Seoul, South Korea.

"That," asked Raven, "Was 'Luigi?'

"You know," said Nightwing as he lifted a menu, "I asked 'bout that once. I got a rather confusing story involving mahjong, poker, and an R&R in Bangkok during the Vietnam War. I didn't ask for clarification."

"Probably wise."

"But any Italian restaurant where the directions include the phrase 'turn left at the Frank Sinatra shrine' has _got_ to be good."

To his mild surprise, they had a very good time. Raven was an attentive date. They talked about crime-fighting and how it compared to dealing with meta-human super-villains. He gently quizzed her on her childhood in Azarath – the positive spots. Spring in the garden, chanting plainsong during spiritual observances, and, of course, study. Both Nightwing and Raven had spent most of their childhood in deep study. Over appetizers, entrée and dessert they covered history, criminology, and philosophy.

What startled him, though, was the way she kept _touching_ him. Not inappropriately, no. Just touching the back of his hand or his arm when she wanted to make a point or express agreement with one of his. If any other woman had treated him like this, he would know what to do. The thing was, Raven just didn't _do_ that. In the ten years he'd known her, she'd touched him to save his life, move him out of the way, or as a very, very rare expression of affection once a year on his birthday or the holidays. The total count was maybe a couple of dozen times at the most. Tonight she'd been more hands-on during dinner than the rest of their friendship put together.

"Interesting," he thought.

By unspoken consent, they'd mostly avoided alcohol, only splitting a bottle of Chianti with the pasta. When they finished the granita, a sort of cross between a sorbet and an Italian ice, Nightwing suggested that they move on.

"You'd think," he said as they headed out into the night, "That somebody who lives most of his life after sunset that I'd be plugged into the night life. But I really haven't had time to get to know much about it. I do know a couple of hot clubs . . . "

"No thanks," Raven said with a small shudder. "I still can't do them. I'm a lot better at shielding myself than when I was a kid, but all those uninhibited people in one place, fueled by alcohol and other chemicals . . . they give me a headache. I mean, I can _function_ in them. But it's not 'fun' by any definition."

"Okay. Not sure what else there is to do though . . . ."

"Actually, I'd like to just head back to your place and check out what's on your DVR."

"Um, ok," he replied, and signaled for a taxi.

The taxi dropped them off at the hotel taxi stand, and they hiked the two blocks back to Nightwing's place. Raven immediately kicked off her sandals and luxuriated in stretching her toes.

"I'm better at them, but I still don't think I'll ever 'master' high heels," she said.

"Then why wear them?"

"Because," she replied, "I like the look on men's faces when they see my legs in them."

"Want another drink?" said Nightwing. "I think I've got, um, beer. I'm _really _not set up to entertain."

"S'okay," said Raven, flopping down on the couch. "You don't have to entertain me. It's not like we're on a date."

"The hell it's not," he thought. "That's _exactly_ what this is like."

He poured two glasses of ice water and joined her on the couch and started _Dark Passage_ with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. After the credits and the surgery scene, Raven stood to go the bathroom. When she returned, she sat right next to him, legs touching. They sat together in the darkness, the room lit only by the flickering sepia tones of the noir film on the widescreen.

"Okay," thought Nightwing. "This is getting ridiculous. If I don't admit I've noticed soon, I'll start looking like an idiot. It's time to load test this."

He stretched his arm back behind Raven along the couch and draped it over her shoulders. She immediately sighed and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Ok," he thought, "That's it."

He turned down the audio and left the movie running in the background. Rather than turn to face her, he spoke, addressing his question to Bogart and Bacall up on the silent screen.

"Raven," he said in a conversational tone, "Why are you doing this?"

She froze. "Doing what?"

"Please, Raven. I've been apprentice to the World's Greatest Detective for more years than I care to admit to. I have some small reputation for being observant enough to notice a fact when it crawls all over my face."

"I'm totally busted, aren't I?"

"Sorta, yeah."

"I feel like a total slut," she said, looking away and starting to move away.

He tighten his grip, pulling her back.

"No, no. It's not like that. It's just that _we've never been like that_, you and I. We've always had a friendship that was _outside _that whole male/female dynamic. You're changing the rules, and I want to know 'why.' That's all."

She sighed. "I'm trying to learn some things about myself, and about men."

"What kind of things?"

"If I tell you, it will invalidate the research," she said quietly with a half-smile.

"Ok. Different question, then. Why me, specifically?"

"Well, it doesn't hurt that you're good looking, powerful, rich, and socially influential. All those things are attractive to a woman," she replied.

"Thanks. But that's not what I mean. Lots of guys can meet those standards," he said.

"We're also both single. We're not . . . cheating anybody of anything. And, well, I'm pretty sure I can . . . trust you. I . . . _know _you. I've been in your head."

"Trust me? Trust me to what?"

"I trust that you won't . . . get over-attached over what's almost surely a one-time experiment. I trust that you won't hurt me physically. I mean, yeah, I can dish out a lot of damage if I'm pissed off, but, in intimate moments, well, I'm pretty small. And that makes me vulnerable. You won't hurt me emotionally. If you turn me down, you'll do it gently. If you take me up on it, you'll also be gentle."

"And finally," she said, tracing his harlequin mask with her fingers, "I'm absolutely certain I can trust your discretion. If it's one think you can do its keep secrets."

She smiled a tiny sad smile, "But I think I've embarrassed myself enough for now, so . . ."

He interrupted. "Ok."

"I'll just head to bed and we'll pretend . . . what?"

"I said, 'ok.' You've obviously given this a lot of thought. This is so unlike you it's got to be crazy-important. But I can't promise anything. I might become 'over-attached.' Men do that, you know. And it's almost certain to change things between us even if I don't. If you're sure . . ."

Raven didn't speak. She just closed her eyes, lifted her chin, and parted her lips, ever so slightly. He leaned in and kissed her. They didn't speak for a long while after that.

The two slept in the darkened bedroom. It was illuminated only by a single bar of flickering light from the widescreen TV that came through the partially opened door. It was much later that Nightwing was startled out of his sleep.

"AAAAHHHHHHHIIIEEEEEEE!" The blood-curdling scream split the night. By instinct, reflex, and dint of a lifetime of training Nightwing turned onto his back and kicked his legs up and out. As his body sprang upright in a kung-fu stance, his hands grabbed two articles off of his bedside table. By the time he tossed his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes he was holding his extended fighting staff in one hand and a fistful of flash-bang grenades in the other. His eyes scanned the dim room for the threat. All he heard was soft, warm laughter.

"Raven?" he said.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "You just look so . . . silly."

It was then that he realized that he'd taken a dramatic fighting stance in the middle of his bed. He was stark naked, and his half of the bedclothes were wadded around his feet. He had bed hair. He slowly relaxed, blowing a lock of long black hair from across his nose.

"Was that more of your experiment? Jesus, Raven, it sounded like the souls of the damned."

"You're not too far wrong," she muttered, wiping her eyes as she pulled the sheet up over her breasts.

"Okay," he said, sitting down. "Experiment is over. What was up with the screaming, and what were you trying to find out?"

Raven hemmed and hawed for a moment, and Nightwing interrupted. "You do realize that in order for ex-post-facto psychological experiments to be ethical, you have to give full disclosure to the subjects after the fact, right? I can pull it up on the internet for you if you like . . ."

Raven gave him a dirty look. "That won't be necessary. I just don't like . . . talking about this stuff. You see, I have nightmares."

"Nightmares? Raven, I've _been _to Hell, and the noise that came out of you belongs there. What's going on?"

"Wait," she said, "I want tea."

Raven grabbed the long t-shirt she usually slept in and threw it on, then went into the kitchen to brew tea and collect her thoughts. When she came back with two mugs, Nightwing had put on sweats and a T-shirt that read "Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."

"It started," she began, "a few days after we beat Trigon."

And she laid it out for him. The 4.7 billion deaths. The guilt. And the bad dreams. Then, more quietly, the situation under which the bad dreams went away.

"And since we broke up," she finished, "the nightmares have come back. It's not as bad as it was, but I get them about once a week. And, um, it's getting more frequent."

"And you were trying to find out . . . "

"If it was having a man in my bed, a man I trusted, or perhaps a lover was what . . . chased away the darkness. Something with another presence, maybe a male one. Or something with endorphins or . . . But that doesn't really make sense. I was kidding myself. I mean, he could banish my nightmares by his presence back before we were lovers. Hell, when we were glued together, we were barely friends. But it doesn't. Make sense, I mean. And I don't get it. You're powerful. You're smart. I trust you. I feel safe with you. But I . . ."

"Feel more secure with Garfield."

"Why?" she wondered.

"Let's table that for a moment. What else have you learned, Dorothy?"

She shot him a dark look.

"I've learned that men, or at least _you_ _think_ that I'm attractive. That Garfield wasn't just settling for the grey girl because he was green."

"Really. _You _have body image issues?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "All women have body image issues."

"I've learned that I can enjoy casual sex. You're good looking, strong, and have plenty of stamina. You know your way around a woman's body. I worked up a sweat, tingled, and at one point I got spots in front of my eyes. Nice job, really."

"But?"

"But at no point did I have an irresistible urge to scream your name," she said. "You never touched the core of who I am. I never completely let go."

"And?" He prodded.

"And I learned that men, even the good ones, will accept sex when it's offered."

He snorted.

"I could have told you _that_ without all of the sweating. But it helped that we're both single. If one of us hadn't been single, I'd like to hope my answer would have been different."

She shot him a dark look. "Are we? Are we _really?_"

"I can't speak for you, but Starfire's 14 _trillion _miles from here, and there's no phone line to Tamaran. You, on the other hand, could run down to LA at any time."

"I . . . can't. Not yet. But you do know that Cyborg has a working email address for her, don't you?"

"What?"

"You didn't know. He's consulting with their engineers. Something about war machines."

"War?"

"I don't have any of the details. I haven't wanted to . . . think about her. But yeah, apparently, there was some kind of border incursion or something with the Gordanians, right when she went home."

"Huh. Well, you want some unsolicited advice?"

She paused for a second. "Sure."

"Ever been to Los Angeles?" he asked.

"No," replied Raven.

"I have," said Nightwing, "Los Angeles, at least the parts of Los Angeles _he'll _be hanging out in, consists almost entirely of beautiful, smart women on the lookout for young, attractive, rich men. Wait too long and he'll have moved on entirely."

Raven winced "What about you? If she's involved in an actual shooting war up there, she could get her ass shot off."

Nightwing paused for a long time, and sipped the cooling tea.

"When I first came here, it was great. A simple problem, with a straightforward solution. Not an 'easy' one, but one that made _sense._ When I was living in Titan Tower I constantly felt distracted. It was like having to lead and train you guys pulled me away from the Mission. The noise, the drama, all of it cause me to lose focus."

"But?"

"But now – I miss that. I miss the team. In looking back, I was _better_ at the job. The different perspectives, the mix of powers and skills, everything helped. Cyborg was right. If I'd brought the whole team out here, I'd be done now, and we'd either be headed home to Jump, or moving on to the next cesspit that needed cleaning out."

Raven just stared at him. He looked away.

"And I miss her. It wasn't just having a hot girl in my bed. Not that I deny enjoying that. It was her outlook on earth and humans. She loved _everything_ about being here. She had enough sunny disposition for all of us. And I really needed that. And I miss it."

"So," said Raven absently, "do I."

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

"Okay – experiment over. I'll take the couch tonight."

She started to rise.

"Uh-uh," he said, grabbing her arm. "You said that in your line of work, it's the transition of _dawn_ that breaks or weakens spells, ends All Hallows Night and so on. So as far as I am concerned, until dawn, it's still 'tonight.' We can go back to intellectually intimate but totally platonic friends tomorrow. Tonight, I don't want to sleep alone. Stay."

Raven considered a moment, then put her tea mug on the floor by the bed, and relaxed with her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and all talk ceased. Raven thought, and thought hard, while taking comfort in the simple human contact. Soon only the steady breathing of two healthy sleepers could be heard in the room.

* * *

Vega System – The Edge of Interstellar Space

Koriand'r stood on the bridge of her flagship, the _Nightwing,_ and looked out the floor to ceiling viewports. The bridge of the Tamaranian warship was chilly and stark, lit by cold white like that came from discreet hidden panels behind the various fixtures in the room. The view port showed three high-speed transports that sat in formation just outside her vessel. The four ships were the only ones in the region, and had proceeded here with as much stealth as possible. They were the fruition of hundreds of careful hours of work. She was fairly sure she, Galfore, and Etann-Fossh had managed to keep project _New Genesis_ a secret, even from Kormand'r.

First she had Galfore had gathered the thirty best Knorfka's on Tamaran and brought them to a secret meeting. That first meeting had been the hardest. She'd looked at the assembled Tamaranians and told them her deepest, darkest secret. Of all the people she would have to tell, these had been the hardest. You see, Beast Boy, that is, Garfield, had miss-understood what a knorfka was. Yes – nanny is part of the job. Caring for the very young and keeping them safe. But like many Tamaranian words, knorfka has many meanings depending on the context. Knorfka also means "bodyguard." It means "guardian." And it means "teacher." The family Knorfka is the first trainer a Tamaranian child gets in the Way of the Warrior, and in the faith of X'hal. The knorfka teaches the young the Path of Honor and the Journey of Pride. The family knorfka is a very honored and honorable position. And on Tamaran, everyone is a warrior first, and something else later. Often knorfkas came to the task after being too maimed in battle, or simply too old and busted to still fight.

And it was this group, the thirty of the best of the best that Koriand'r stood before and asked to betray their deepest, most strongly held conviction to obey what almost certainly be her final order to them: to turn and run.

You see, Koriand'r of Tamaran was going to lose.

She'd laid it out for them, point by point. The math was inescapable. Kori was good. She was very good, and the men under her fought like they were possessed by X'hal herself. But the fact that one Tamaranian warrior was as good as any ten Gordanians didn't make much difference when there _two hundred_ Gordanians for every Tamaranian. Oh, they were going to fight like hell, and not a single Gordanian nest would be free of mourners when they were done. But in the end, the math was inescapable.

So Koriand'r was going to cheat. The Knorfkas used their own connections to find others in their trade, and carefully, silently, Koriand'r, Galfore, and Etann-Fossh had filled three high speed transports with ninety thousand of Koriand'r's people. Each family had a pair of battle-mates who had been together for at least five years. They had a least three children. There were warriors, teachers, artists, scientists, and farmers. Everything an independent colony could need. They were enjoined from communicating with Tamaran for three generations. They'd sit in cold sleep for a year. Koriand'r would recall them if she came up with a miracle. But after the year was up, they would land and start to rebuild. Tamaran's people, her culture, her way of life would go on. And one day, they would come back, and Gordania would rue the day. But that would be lifetimes from now. Those who remained behind would die keeping the secret.

Etann-Fossh spoke. "_Your Highness, they signal that all is in readiness."_

"Open communications, then," she said.

_"_Genesis Primarius_, _Genesis Secundus_, and _Genesis Tercias, _do you copy?"_ she asked.

The commander of each vessel responded that they were ready to receive their orders.

"Gentlemen, you may open your sealed orders."

There was a pause, and the captain of the _Genesis Primarius_ responded. "Orders acknowledged. Implementing. _Primarius _out."

The deck of _Nightwing_ pulsed as the FTL drive of _Genesis Primarius _warped the space around it and vanished in a rainbow streak.

"Secundus _here,"_ said a female voice. _"Orders acknowledged. Implementing."_

That vessel, too, vanished.

There was a long, long pause. Koriand'r began to be concerned, but then the voice spoke. "_This – this is _Tercius._ Orders acknowledged. We'll do our best."_

And she, too, vanished into the endless night.

_"__So, your highness," _asked Etann-Fossh, "_I shouldn't ask, but I confess to being wildly curious where you have sent them."_

_"__I don't think it could hurt to tell you now, even if you were indiscreet. Still, I will ask you to keep my secrets."_

_"__Of course, your highness," _he replied.

_"__The first I sent to Sector Zero, to the Guardians of the Universe. Their complicated ethics will not allow them to intervene in our war, for reasons I do not fully understand. But a boatload of helpless refugees? Those," _Koriand'r said confidently, _"will be provided with a colonizable world, and protection. If the Gordanians choose to follow _Primarius _to further harass our people, they will have to do it in the face of the Guardians and the combined might of the Green Lantern Corps."_

Etann-Fossh nodded with approval. _"Well, thought."_

_"__The second," _Koriand'r continued, _"Is going to Earth."_

_"__The humans?" _asked Etann-Fossh. "_But they do not have the technology to face the Gordanians."_

"_No," _replied Koriand'r. "_But they have Superman. The Gordanians will not trespass on the Sol system. Superman has made it clear that he will not intervene in interstellar disputes. He will only involve himself if the Earth is threatened. Gordania does not trouble the Earth because they fear his power."_

_"__But," _said Etann-Fossh, _"How can you be sure this Superman will accept our people?"_

Koriand'r grinned a wicked grin. _"Kal-el has a . . . weakness for xenocide victims. He has a good idea what it is like to be a survivor from a destroyed planet. My letter to him exploits that soft spot for all it's worth. It is my hope that the humans will allow our people to terraform their fourth planet 'Mars.' They are not currently using it."_

Koriand'r said nothing for a few moments, and Etann-Fossh prompted her.

_"__The last . . . were the very bravest and most valiant. I have sent _Genesis Tercius _to the House of X'hal."_

Etann-Fossh went pale.

_"__It is my hope that the sheer gall of presenting themselves to Her will impress Her enough that she will provide for them."_

The great ship began to turn for home. It would only be a few hours back to the Capital from the edge of the system but Koriand'r decided that she would take advantage of the radio silence to get some time alone. She went down to her quarters and sat down at her desk. Her Titan communicator dug into her hip.

"I have never gotten out of the habit of carrying it," she thought. "It does not work out here. It does not have the range."

She took the battered round com unit from her belt and opened it. She ran her fingers over the speed dial buttons.

"Friend Cyborg. Friend Beast Boy. Friend Raven. And Boyfriend Robin. I miss you so very much my friends."

There, in the privacy of her quarters, Koriand'r allowed a single tear to run down her face. She sniffed, and wiped her nose. The weight of her responsibilities was _so_ heavy. And the knowledge of her people's fate was so _sad._ She had said she would do her best. And she would, she was confident, buy the _New Genesis _project the time they needed to run and hide. And she would make the Gordanian's bleed, too.

"But I miss the simpler time. When I could press this red button and know my friends would come to me, no matter what."

Koriand'r pressed the red "All Call" button on the face of the com, and then closed the case.

"But – those days are past, and I must get back to work."

She rose and headed back to the bridge of _Nightwing_, leaving the dead com unit behind her.

Designed by Robin, built by Cyborg out of his own circuits, the Titan com sets were marvels of flexibility. At extremely short ranges, they could work unit-to-unit, like walkie-talkies. Farther apart, they could use the digital cellular network, wifi, 3G, and 4G networks to communicate. Isolated at the North Pole or deep in the Amazonian rainforests, they could send a beam up to the geo-synchronous communications satellites that decorated Low Earth Orbit like so many jewels. Kori had not charged her com in weeks, or even months. Why bother, when there's no network it can connect to? But Cyborg and Robin had designed for all contingencies. Deep within the handset, the All Call woke the reserve capacitor. Without complaint, the hand unit began scanning. No local network, no 3G or 4G, so the device started at the top of the radio band and began scanning down. Eventually it reached something it recognized. The Engineering Protocol. It handed off the All-Call packet to the Engineer's network aboard _Nightwing. Nightwing's _computer opened the network packet and saw that, although the destination nodes were not on _its _network, the header address could be interpreted at the Capital, so it squirted the odd data home ahead of itself, as it was clearly labeled "urgent."

There, the central communications computer recognized Cyborg's header data as one of the addresses and bundled up the All Call with the next set of emails headed to Earth, and to Jump City.

* * *

[1] Guys – Be aware that Garfield is breaking Guy Dating Rule #1: Never, _ever_ discuss your Ex. It's just that he figures that this opportunity is blown already.


	55. Voices, Tears, and Starlight

Shout Outs:

Arashikage1988 – Always glad to see your input.

Randamwriter – It's a Titan thing. "The lesson two: We never give up."

St Rhon – Sorry about that. I wasn't trying to achive any kind of parity. Raven just ended up with questions she needed answered, and she's got trust issues. Not many guys she cares to explore questions like that with. And yeah, they're acting like a bunch of 14-year-olds. All of them are emotionally stunted. Think about their role models. There's not a damn one of them whose parents survived long enough to see them into adulthood, except maybe Cyborg, who has his own issues.

Fusiontech45 – Wow. I didn't see it that way at all.

Bob – Thanks. The Speech is pretty world famous among WWII buffs. More about that in the Author's Notes.

Chowbo – I'm glad you liked it. I'm afraid that most people pictured Kori's processional to throne to Elmer Fudd singing "Kill da Wabbit! Kill da Wabbit!" but at the time of the writing I was listening to the Warsaw Symphony doing an awesome arrangement of _Die Walküre Akt 3_ and I simply could not resist. They had over 14 French horns. I really did think of the rebar in the concrete. Yes – "The Speech" was real. More on that in the Author's Notes.

Theluckyshot – Your approach to relationships is one is a valid one, and one that I try to follow. (My life is an open book to any who care to read it. Secrets ferment.) But I've seen other approaches work. I know more than one marriage of over 25 years that functions on the principle of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. As for the approach the Awesome Foursome ends up taking? That would be tellin'!

Tatsumarusmith – Yeah. War is hell, and if I'd realized what it was going to do to Starfire's personality when I got the idea I would never have done it to her. The entire war is just a backdrop for a couple of BB/Rae scenes that I have planned, and in the process, Star's soul is going to get stripped to the bone. Talk about your collateral damage. I'm already regretting it.

Victorthe3rd – You're very kind. Garfield _really_ needed someone to talk to, and he doesn't have _that _kind of relationship with his parents. Well, maybe Rita, but I'm already using her for something else. I did consider some buyer's remorse the next morning after the Friends With Benefits hookup, but decided against it. Raven isn't capable of that level of hypocrisy after the decisions she's made. And Robin is so bloody rational that freaking out really isn't in his lexicon, either. Lots of people have liked Garfield's swing-and-a-miss bedmate.

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne – Ah, but the hookup had nothing to do directly with her relationship with Garfield. It was all about _her._

JohnXGambit – Glad you liked it.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – More like blood and thunder. And ozone. And high octane aircraft fuel. Oh yeah, and brimstone.

Jude3e – Most people aren't.

Egg1 – Yeah, a lot of people felt that way. My shorts are still smoking from all the flames.

Caprichoso – Spelling error should be fixed. And yeah, I spun it differently than a lot of people expected. Honestly, I've seen it coming for like, five chapters now. I mean, who else has Raven _got?_ I can't even begin to picture her going out to a pickup bar and going home with some random dude, and the only other man she's tight with is Cyborg, and she isn't even sure if he has a . . . um. Unit. Yeah – more on the 3rd Army Speech in the author's notes.

TripletheCheese – Glad YOU liked it, anyway.

TheBlueRingOfHope – I think that this is the first time I've heard from you, yes? Welcome to the party. Glad you're having a good time.

BBLover – Oh, I've begun. You're not the first person to comment on Nightwing's scent. I haven't done a very good job of illustrating the amount of time that's passed. Garfield won't get a wiff of Raven until weeks after her trip to Blüdhaven. Multiple showers will more than clear his scent from her, even to Garfield's nose. Unless, of course, she's pregnant . . . But would I do that?

IanZakk – Glad you liked it. Updates coming out as quickly as I have time for them.

Katwizzle – Glad you're still sticking with me. I miss hearing from the old-timers like you.

Avandra the Mary Sue Slayer – Glad you're enjoying it. Welcome to the party.

Rae – no joke – Thanks for the props.

Rae – Glad you liked it. Star's innocence really starts taking a beating long about chapter 50 or so. Brace yourself. But then, if you're reading this, you already know that. Sorry.

Jimmy – Yeah. People are like that.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Wow. Good thing I was born wearing asbestos underwear (per my profile). It's the only thing that made sitting in this River of Flame comfortable. But I'm managing. It's nice to know you guys care about the characters I'm writing.

For those who have expressed an interest, Starfire's speech upon assuming the mantle of the Supreme Ruler of Combined Tamaran was adapted from Patton's speech to the 3rd Army right before the Normandy invasion. He never actually wrote it down. What Patton buffs call "The Speech" is a composite of what a bunch of guys who heard The Speech and were inspired by it wrote down afterward. I think the crazy bastard just walked up there with a couple of note cards and started swearing. I dialed down the profanity, changed, "man" to "warrior," "American" to "Tamaranian," and made a few other changes. Patton wasn't trying to motivate veteran warriors, he was trying to convince a few hundred thousand draftees that they had balls of solid steel and could kick the asses of anything dumb enough to stand in front of them. Then he led them into the teeth of the Wehrmacht. I really needed something inspirational on a cosmic scale from Starfire and was having trouble on my own. Then I remembered: Fanfic – it's all about re-using other people's ideas in your own way. So hunt up Patton and off we go . . .

Ok – so teasers. Looking ahead, I'll apologize for the choppiness of this chapter. There are a number of flashbacks. It makes the narrative a little discordant but they are necessary for the direction I'm taking the characters. If I had it to do over again, I'd have done these scenes earlier. Try and roll with it. To all the folk involved in the Hue and Cry, please put down the pitchforks and torches. Quit boiling the tar and stop tearing up those pillows. There's a tearful reconciliation in this chapter. One down, three to go. Farther down the road? Galfore gets the shittiest of shit jobs. Changeling in tears, while handling duck tape. Starfire – her back to the wall – makes an appalling decision. Oh, and a giant war mech.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

Jump City, Titan Tower – Late Night (Present Day)

Cyborg sat at his desk in his office, the office that had been Robin's back in the day. His feet were up on the desk, his head lolled back, and his arms dangled at his sides. A tiny trail of drool dangled from one corner of his mouth, welling and receding in time with his snores. One case file balanced on his chest. A stack of three more was loosely piled on the desktop. Four or five more lay scattered on the floor at his feet. The desk lamp was out, and a work light above the HVAC return cast a grid pattern across his face and upper torso. His cybernetic eye glowed red and began to blink.

"BEEP – BEEP – BEEP – BEEP . . . ."

"Gaaaah!" exclaimed Cyborg as he was jolted from his sleep.

A small geyser of papers shot into the air as he lost his balance and he fell from the chair with a mighty thump. He shook his head and kneeled while he consulted the heads-up display inside his cybernetic eye.

"ALL-CALL! ALL-CALL! 1 Titan Island Way. 1 Titan Island Way. ALL-CALL ALL-CALL! S382436"

"What the . . .?"

The "All-Call" was the Titan distress signal. It was a single pushbutton that signaled all Titans and honorary Titans, friends of Titans, and, well, anybody who carried a Titan communicator within about 100 miles of the signal. It was a beacon and would only give the nearest street address of the transmitting com set and the signature code of the handset that made the call.

There was a sudden breeze. "Hey, uh, Cyborg," said Kid Flash, "I got one of those "All Calls" you told me about, but it said to come here, and um, we're already here. So can I go back to bed?"

The US Postal Service is a funny thing. To deliver the mail, they need a street address. So every single building in the US that gets mail has a street address. There's only one road on Titan Island, and that's the Titan's driveway. So: 1 Titan Island Way is the street address of Titan Tower.

"No," replied Cyborg. "Search the Tower. Check everything but the reactor core. Something's wrong."

"Sure. Back in flash." There was another breeze.

"I never thought I'd miss BB's sense of humor," he muttered.

"That's really weird. It's _Starfire's_ signature code," he thought as he fired up his terminal and started opening data files. "I know for a fact that she's not on Earth."

His com chirped. It was Raven. He opened the case and held it while typing with the other hand.

"Cyborg, what's going on? I have an All-Call, but it's here, and it's from Starfire."

"I know," said Cyborg as he traced the network packet back to the . . .

"WTF," he mumbled. "The email system?"

The handset on his desk ran harshly. (He'd never gotten around to removing Robin's retro-style phone.)

He picked up the handset and put it to his ear. "What?" he said, distractedly as he opened up the logs for the _TitanOne_ mailer daemon.

"Dude," said Garfield's voice. "My comset just went off with an All-Call, and get this: It's at the Tower. Everything's okay, right?"

"I'm working on it, but . . ."

Just then, one of his monitors went dark and Nightwing's face appeared.

"Cyborg," he said sharply, "What's wrong? My old Titan's comset just started flashing an All-Call from Starfire, and it says she's there at the Tower.

"Email from Tamaran?" wondered Cyborg as he continued to trace the message.

Just then, there was another breeze as Kid Flash suddenly jolted to a stop. "Tower's clean. I checked every room except the three sealed rooms. There's nothing out of place from the Reactor Room to the rooftop volley ball court. Speaking of which, how come _I _always have to go get the ball when somebody misses?"

Jinx walked in the door wearing nothing but a long collarless T-shirt reading "Girls Just Wanna Have fun," and yawned, pushing her bright pink hair out of her eyes.

"What's going on? What's all the noise?"

"QUIET!" shouted Cyborg, eyes bulging.

Everybody stared. Somewhere a cricket chirped.

"Right now I need everybody to give me a couple of hours of peace and quiet and I'll see if I can figure out what is going on. So far, this is all I know: the All-Call came in in a batch of e-mails I got from Tamaran just a little while ago. Everybody please go back to bed, and I'll contact you when I have more information."

Cyborg worked through the night, and he didn't like what he found. He carefully considered his obligations to the legally recognized sovereign of a foreign state, and then he weighed his obligations to his friends. In the end, the decision was easy: it was time for a coming out.

It was a pre-breakfast briefing. The sun was barely over the horizon, and the daylight outside the big window had that golden post-dawn quality that foreshadowed clear weather. Nightwing and Changeling's faces were displayed on the enormous wide-screen TV, while Jinx, Kid Flash, Raven, and Cyborg sat at the table.

"Okay people, listen up. This is going to be a lot to take in. First of all, I've confirmed that the All-Call did come from Starfire's comset. There's a lot of propeller-head type geek talk involved in how it got here, but let's just say that Robin, that is, Nightwing's paranoia and my impulse to over-engineer paid off. Before you ask, I don't know why she sent it. Some of you know that I've been in touch with Starfire since she left. She asked me to work with the engineers on Tamaran to try to come up with some new ideas for armor, aircraft, and weapons for their ongoing war with the Gordanians.

"Wait," said Raven, "War? I thought it was just some sort of border dispute."

"No," said Cyborg, "They've been in a state of total war since before Starfire left. She took over from Blackfire when she got there. They've invaded Tamaranian space for no apparent reason. The war had been going on for several months before she left, and it's gotten worse since she's been there."

"Blackfire's out of jail?" asked the Changeling, "And not ruler? That must have been some fight."

"Actually no, she stepped down on her own."

"I don't get it."

"Keep a lid on it, and I'll fill you in."

And so Cyborg laid it out for them. The state of the war. The nature of the enemy. Everything he had learned from the Tamaranian engineers he'd been working with.

"So, question," said the Changeling.

"Go," Cyborg replied.

"Ever since we met Starfire, we've heard nothing but what badasses the Tamaranian warriors are. If they're so tough, why are they getting their butts kicked so bad?"

Cyborg sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Simple numbers BB. There _is no Tamaranian Empire._ Tamaran, for all they have a warrior culture, don't go out and conquer. They have a few dozen colonies across the quadrant, but they're mostly, believe it or not, a peaceful people. Oh, they're proud. They're arrogant, and they fight like hell, but they learned early on that the worst thing you can do is give your neighbors a common enemy: you. There _is_ a Gordanian Empire, and it's huge. Plus they have allies. Starfire's people are simply and completely outnumbered. They're looking at a war of annihilation. Any survivors will probably be sold into slavery."

"Cyborg," interrupted Nightwing, "Why am I, we, just hearing about this now?"

Cyborg looked at the video input. "The Supreme Ruler of Tamaran forbade me to tell you. Her planet, her war, her call."

"But . . ."

"You walked away without a word. I think that she wanted to hear from you because you wanted to speak to her, not because she had come begging for help. What's changed is this transmission we got last night. Not only was it the ALL-CALL distress signal, but the mail packet that it came in was cut off midway through the transmission. I haven't heard from Tamaran for nine hours. Starfire didn't want me up there getting killed in her war. She made me promise to stay earthside. I've done all I can to help my friend remotely, but now I'm going up there. It will take me three days to prep the T-ship. I've got an idea that can get us there quickly. Who's with me?"

Nightwing locked eyes with Cyborg for a long minute, and then spoke. "Starfire has made her choice. We were lucky we had her for the time that we did. But I can't go chasing after her."

"Dammit man, she's going to DIE!"

"We don't know that. But what I _do_ know is that I'm almost ready to break the criminal syndicates here in Blüdhaven. When I take down Blockbuster I'll also be in a position to root out the organized corruption in law enforcement as well. That will improve the lives of thousands of people. Starfire's one person. Even if, in helping her, I help her people . . . I have an obligation to the people on _this_ planet, too. I can't walk away from this now. You're going to have to handle this one without me. I'm sorry. Good luck."

The screen went dark as he cut the transmission.

"Can you guys you believe him?" Cyborg asked rhetorically. "BB, what about you?"

The Changeling's eyes shot toward Raven, then at the ground. "I – I can't. I'm sorry. But I can't go to Tamaran right now."

And he cut his transmission.

Cyborg made a face. "Go team," he muttered.

"Raven?"

But Raven was gone.

Cyborg sighed and turned to the remaining Titans. "You guys aren't as tight with Starfire. I don't expect you to volunteer for this and . . ."

"No way," said Jinx. "We're in."

"Actually, I have another job for you to do. We can't all leave. When Raven and I cut out, you guys will be the only thing left to keep a lid on the City."

"But I don't think Raven . . ."

"No, really. Don't worry. I'm just gonna go have a little talk with Raven. She's coming."

A few minutes later, Cyborg stood in front of the door to Raven's room. He hit the buzzer. No answer. He hit the buzzer again.

"Raven, I know you're in there, and you're gonna talk to me. Open the door or I'll use my override key."

The door hissed open.

"Okay Raven, now you listen to me . . ."

"I'm coming."

"I know you're hurt, and I know you're pissed off but . . . what?"

"I said, 'I'm coming."

"Oh. Well, I . . ."

Raven turned to face him. Cyborg was appalled. Her face was puffy and flushed, and her eyes were deeply bloodshot."

"How," she asked, "Do I let go of the pain? The anger? I know I need to talk to her. I know I'm not being fair. But every time I try, it all wells up . . . Rita tried to explain some of it and it makes _sense,_ but it's like a part of me is not listening. I can't seem to put myself in either of them's place. I have no . . . empathy. How's that for irony?"

Cyborg thought for a moment. So – his friend was having trouble putting himself in her friend's place. He could help with that.

"You know," he began, "sometimes good people make bad decisions. Sometimes there's a good reason, or at least it seems that way at the time. Other times, there really isn't one, and they do it anyway, because it's the only thing they can thing they can see to do at the time. Isn't that right . . . Gem?"

In her mind's eye, Raven heard the Bone-Men speak again:

**_"The Gem was born of evil's fire,  
The Gem shall be his portal,  
He comes to claim, he comes to sire,  
The end of all things mortal!"_**

Gem was one of Raven's names. Nobody ever said it in Titan Tower because under that aegis, she'd done a terrible thing. Raven gasped, her eyes flew wide, and her stomach tightened up. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. On her sixteenth birthday, she's made a mistake. She'd underestimated her friends, and, in her despair, she'd given up. She'd submitted to her fate, the end of her own life, and the entry of Trigon into the mortal world. It had all worked out. But there, on her own, with her feet on the ground and the information she'd had at the time, she'd made the wrong call. Just like her friends. And they'd manage to make the wrong call without killing 4.7 billion people in the process.

Cyborg looked at his friend. She had gone pale-er. And now she looked a little green.

"Raven, I'm sorry. That was hitting below the belt."

"No, actually, it . . . helps."

She straightened up. "I need to meditate. I'll be ready when the ship is ready to lift. Call me if you need help."

"Okay Raven, if you're sure."

Cyborg went to work. He had an idea, and he was going to do something very dangerous, and perhaps foolish, but it would get them to Tamaran in record time. If it didn't kill them all first.

Time went fast. Raven meditated and studied. Kid Flash and Cyborg overhauled the T-ship and got it ready to fly hard and fast. Jinx kept a lid on the city so that the others could concentrate.

* * *

Interlude:

Tamaran – Warrior's Plaza

Koriand'r was _furious._

_"I want to know how that scout ship got past the picket ships at the edge of the system without being seen, I want to know why it wasn't destroyed in high orbit, and I want the communications center restored!"_

She stood on an upper balcony of one of the administrative buildings near the pile of wreckage that used to be Memory Prime, the central data repository for Tamaran. A Gordanian scout, armed with a single blockbuster missile had appeared without warning inside the security perimeter. It had come roaring in too fast for the planetary point-defenses to act, and fired its missile into the data center.

_"We have not only lost our ability to run simulations and analyses, we've lost our com link to the fleet, the outer colonies, and with the Earth! And to top it off, Point Defense finally got off of their asses and blew the intruder to flinders after they got their shot off, leaving me with __no one__ to question. If I find that someone was derelict in his duty, I will seriously consider dragging him through a mail-slot by his narthaks myself."_

The two subalterns paled. The elder spoke,

* * *

Each performed the abbreviated Salute to the Sovereign and hurried from the room.

_"And get someone to clean that mess up!"_

* * *

Jump City – Earth

Three days later, right on schedule, the T-ship was ready to lift.

Cyborg took the command cockpit. Raven took her usual seat.

"Okay Raven, the computer has started the general count-down. Let's go over the final checklist. Main Power – Online."

"Defensive systems activated," replied Raven.

"Aborting final countdown. Full system shutdown," broke in the computer. "Containment has been breached. External blast door has been opened."

"What now," snarled Cyborg.

The steam, aerosol lubricants, and assorted gasses obscured the view of the blast door as it went up. A figure stood there, obscured by all the smoke. He strode forward. The mists parted, and Changeling walked toward the ship. He made eye contact with Raven first, then Cyborg. No one spoke. Wordlessly, he took his seat.

"Re-starting final countdown. Begin final checklist. Main Power – Online," Cyborg began again.

"Defensive systems activated," replied Raven.

"Oxygen tanks at maximum," said Changeling.

"Aborting final countdown. Full system shutdown," broke in the computer. "Containment has been breached. External blast door has been opened."

The three heroes looked over at the door. The tall slender figure carried a small but heavy-looking tote.

As he approached the T-ship, Nightwing spoke quietly. "Sorry I'm late. I had to get Batman in to cover Blüdhaven."

Wordlessly, Cyborg exited the command seat and settled into the engineer's seat. The two men stared into one another's eyes for a ten count. Then Nightwing took the command seat.

"Re-starting final countdown. Begin final checklist. Main Power – Online," began Nightwing.

"Defensive systems activated," replied Raven.

"Oxygen tanks at maximum," said Changeling.

"Fusion thrusters: ready to fire," finished Cyborg.

"Titans," said Nightwing, "Go!"

The T-ship rumbled, and then began to roar as the solid rocket boosters ignited and she began to move. They cleared the launch bay and began to accelerate toward orbit. The vessel vibrated sharply as they exited the atmosphere, the boosters falling away. Cyborg engaged the fusion thrusters and they began to accelerate toward the speed of light.

"Cyborg," said Nightwing as the vessel began to approach the speed of light, "the fusion thrusters will take quite a while to get us there. Didn't you say you had come up with something to get us there sooner?"

"Oh yeah," said Cyborg. "It'll kick in automatically when we hit .88 C."

"What did you do?"

"I swapped out the plutonium core. It didn't have enough juice to warp space like we need to to make it there by this afternoon. I installed a drive based on what Starfire told me about how her people warp space when they _transition._ It's never been tested, but I'm pretty sure the new core will have the power we need."

"If you needed more juice than plutonium, what did you use?"

Grinned. "Xenthonium."

Nightwing's eyes widened and he swallowed. "Um, how much?"

"'Bout ten pounds."

"_Ten Pounds? _But that's more than . . ."

"Oops – check our relative speed. We're approaching .88C. Time to find out if this is going to work."

Then the meter read .88C. There was a burst of white light and a rainbow pattern, and then an orange contrail stretched from the edge of the Sol system towards Vega.

* * *

Interlude

Jumps City – About four months ago.

Raven lay on her back, staring at her bedroom ceiling. It had been a long night. Garfield had only been gone a few days, and the nightmares had started back up again. She'd hope she was over them. But not only had they come back last week, but they were starting to be more frequent. It wasn't a crippling problem yet. She had some time. But she had to solve this.

"Even if I could face Garfield, even if he was still here, it's not fair to him to just . . . use him as a security blanket."

She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Time to break out the big-girl panties. I really, really don't want to do this."

Raven rose and walked across the room to her chest of drawers. On it was a small box, such as most women have. In it were the usual sorts of things: earring backs, a half-used tube of chapstick, a couple of hairbands, a pen, two broken pencils, and a couple of business cards. She took out one and read it.

"Dr. Robert Whaley – Therapist"

Raven thought as she dialed. "I am a super-hero. I rip the bridges off of battleships. When manifest, my soul-self can cast a shadow across the entire city. And I am about to let a man I do not know root around in my brain and tell me why I can't let go of my guilt. I clearly _must_ be crazy."

* * *

Interstellar Space – Present Date

The T-ship's FTL drive rumbled as the small spacecrafts moved through its artificial environment. Most of the time the Titans kept their eyes down, either on the instruments or a book. The "warped" space outside the cockpit fairings was visually "wrong," and uncomfortable to look at. Too much time staring into the writhing white mist that appeared to be streaming past the canopies caused nausea.

For a long time Raven stared at the intercom toggle. There was a common channel that would play in all five headsets, which was what the Titans mostly used. But to cut down on chatter on the operations channel there were also three "private" channels.

She reached up to hit the toggle for Changeling. Then put her hand back in her lap. Then she reached up again and touched the switch. Then she put her hand back in her lap. Suddenly, her hand popped out of her lap and threw the switch. The light went green (channel open) and then white (mike active).

Raven opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried again. Then the light went red (other mike active).

"Um, Hi," came Garfield's voice.

The light went green again. She risked a glance to her left. She could see him through the mist of "otherspace" inside his canopy. He was watching her.

Her mouth opened and she spoke, "Eager to go save your girlfriend?"

Raven's eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly. She winced. What had made her say something like that? She looked over again. He wasn't angry. She'd hurt him. She could see the pain in the corners of his eyes. The light went red.

"She was never my girlfriend Raven. If you'd listen, even once, you'd know that." The light went green for a moment, and then went dark.

She looked over at the other canopy. She could make out the side of his head. He was clearly focused on something in his lap: a book, or electronic game or something. Raven sighed. "Well, that went well," she thought, sardonically. "The first time I spoke to him in four months, and I went with 'crazy bitch.' Maybe I'll try again later, when everyone's not nauseous."

The T-ship completed the voyage in just a few hours short of a day. Cyborg took great care to transition back to normal space outside the Tamaranian system. They were hailed by Tamaranian picket ships almost immediately, and were escorted directly to Tamaran. The T-ship landed not at the spaceport, but was escorted directly to the palace, and landed in the Gardens.

As they exited their craft they were immediately surrounded by a dozen massive Tamaranian warriors. A smaller, smooth-voiced young man spoke in very stilted, fractured English.

"I give you greetings Titan friends. The Grand Ruler awaits you in the great hall. You will do the following of me, please?" He smiled tentatively.

Nightwing looked over at Cyborg, who simply stared back at him. A heavy moment passed, then another one. Finally, the dark-haired man pressed his lips firmly together and led the other three heroes into the palace. The escort walked them straight to the throne room. Large guards with power lances flanked the massive bronze doors, faces grim. They reached up grasped the rings, and pulled the heavy doors open.

The room within was filled with heavily armed and armored Tamaranians of all sizes and ages. There were more men than women present, but there were plenty of women there. The armor was well-worn. Some of it richly decorated. Most bore some kind of cosmetic damage, but all appeared sound. There was no carpet. Instead the onyx floor was divided by a path of white, cold marble that led from the door to the throne. Their escorts spread out to form flanking columns of two as they walked them up to the throne.

Starfire sat on a massive bronze throne, the coronet of Grand Ruler on her brow. Her face was stern, yet serene. She wore a purple gown that brought to mind the color of the crop-top and skirt she had fought so many battles in on earth. The gown was girdled in tight around her waist by a side armored belt. She wore a steel gorget round her throat, shoulders, and upper chest, set with a single topaz the size of a crabapple.

Her expression didn't change as she looked into Nightwing's face and waited. The moment stretched out. Nightwing looked over at Cyborg, who looked him in the eye, smirked ever so slightly, and then settled his weight on his servos with at air of a man prepared to wait patiently until the sun became a cold lump of cold the size of his forehead before speaking. Nightwing's lips pressed into a narrow line.

"Sta- Princess Koriand'r, I greet you in the name of the People of Earth. We have come to offer our skills and our powers to Tamaran in her hour of need. It is the fond hope of our people that you will find favor with this, and that our planets may grow closer in understanding and trade."

Starfire blinked and one lip quivered for just a moment, and then she spoke.

"In the name of all Tamaran, we greet the advisors from Earth, and welcome their talent and power in or just war against the Gordanian invaders. You shall all bear the rank of Captains in my personal guard, and shall serve as Privy Council."

There were mutterings here and there in the throne room at that.

Starfire rose from the throne and her eye glowed vermillion. "This I do _by my will alone._"

All movement and sound ceased. The glow from her eyes faded. "Earth-Advisors, you will please permit my senior staff to do the taking of English from you."

Ten Tamaranians came forward as the Titans waited awkwardly, knowing what was coming. Nightwing's eyes got huge as he was approached by the biggest, hairiest Tamaranian male he'd ever seen.

"Ummm, I . . ." he said and the enormous man walked up and kissed him square on the mouth. His eyes bugged out and he waved his arms a little.

"Augh – I . . . . oh. Mmph."

There was a quiet giggle, quickly muffled from the vicinity of the throne.

"The senior staff will pass the English along to their subordinates. By this time tomorrow, English should have made its way around the City and half way around the planet."

Then she turned and exited the room through the door to her briefing room. Galfore, Komand'r and Etann-Fossh followed immediately after her. The Titans looked at one another and, lacking instructions, Nightwing led the time as they filed out the side door. As Cyborg stepped around Nightwing to get in line behind him, he muttered, _sotto-voce _"In the name of the People of Earth? Is that the best you got for her? How 'bout in _your _name?"

Robin shrugged and whispered back. "I didn't know what else to say. You left me high and dry!"

As soon as the door closed, Starfire squealed!

"Friends! You have come to Tamaran! I have so _much _the gladness to see you!"

She raced at Nightwing, then jerked to a stop, turned to Changeling, jerked away, made eye contact with Raven, then looked away from her. Then she saw Cyborg. She enveloped the big man in a bone crushing hug. His leg servos hissed as she lifted him off of the ground. His eyes bugged out and droplets of sweat began to run down his face.

"Star . . ." he squeaked. "Can't breathe."

Starfire put Cyborg down and breath audibly whooshed back into his lungs. As Cyborg leaned over, gasping for air, Starfire continued.

"I do not understand. How is it that you are here?"

Nightwing approached her. "You sent the All-Call. So we came. Simple as that. Did you think we wouldn't come?" He smiled.

Starfire froze. It was the first time Robin had spoken to her since . . . then. Really made eye contact and . . . spoken. To her."

"The All-Call? But . . . the battery. It was not charged. I did not expect anyone to hear me. I was just . . . reminiscing."

He looked deeply into her eyes and gently raised a hand to her shoulder. It hovered there for a moment, and then slowly went back down to his side.

"When there's trouble," he smiled, "you know who to call."

Starfire smiled slowly, raised her hand, and then let it fall back to her side.

"So," said Raven's gravelly voice. "Um . . . what now?"

Nightwing spoke first, and with confidence. "Right now we need to get an overall view of the strategic situation, as well as the tactical situation on the ground wherever you are actively engaged."

Starfire smiled again, broadly, for the first time in weeks. "It shall be done. Do the taking of the seats here. Galfore, do the starting of the overview. I will send for food."

Garfield shuddered.

But the food wasn't that bad, even for Garfield. She'd giggled when he voiced his concern.

"That was my wedding feast. Those foods are traditional, rare, and ceremonial. Look!"

As the trays came in the bore slices of some kind of cold meat, a cheese like substance, and a number of berries and fruits.

"And see – knives and forks. So there. My people are _not_ the 'hairy barbarians.'"

Sure enough, apparently the Tamaranians used two tine forks and broad bladed knives when not re-enacting the primal ways of their ancestors.

Galfore talked as the Titans ate. Kormand'r added salient details and over the course of the evening, the strategic situation was mapped out. Then, as the hour grew late, they started in on the specific tactics of the current engagements across the remaining Tamaranian possessions.

". . . or at least that was the case until our communications core got hit. Now we are reduced to courier ships carrying messages for any communications out of the home system. We are in urgent need of a replacement being constructed."

"I'll take that," said Changeling.

Heads turned to stare.

"What?" he said.

"I kinda thought that would be _my_ job," said Cyborg. Building a communications center is sorta, technical. Not what you're known for."

"I'm not good at this strategic stuff, and a construction project is just like producing a TV show. You have schedules, a deadline, and limited resources. I don't have to know how it works any more than a director needs to understand pyrotechnics to say 'I want an explosion here; make it happen.' I can do this."

Starfire wrote out an order in Tamaranian. "Have the guard escort you to the site. It's early yet. English may have not worked its way over there. You may have to kiss anyone you need to talk to."

The rest of the team listened into the night.

* * *

Interlude –  
Midway City, about two weeks ago.

Rita's console beeped, and then beeped again. She leaned away from the e-reader she was using and clicked her mouse. A young woman with purple hair popped onto the screen in front of her.

"Oh, hello Raven; long time no see."

"Hi," Raven replied. There was a long pause.

"So," said Raven after a moment's silence. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well. The Brotherhood of Evil is still flailing around like a snake with its head cut off. Rumor has it that General Immortus has managed to hook up with Monsieur Mala somewhere near Rangoon, but Madame Rouge is still in the Orbital Prison and the Brain remains sealed in a jar in Atlanta. So it's still pretty quiet around here."

There was another moment of silence. "And, uh, how's Steve and the guys?"

Rita had not heard from Raven since her unannounced trip to Titan Tower months ago. The looked askance at the monitor and arched an eyebrow.

"They're fine, too. Keeping busy and enjoying the low stress."

There was yet another long pause as Raven clearly searched for words.

"So – how's the, um, shopping in Midway City."

"Sub-par," said Rita immediately. "I have to go to New York or Boston if I want to find anything really good or have a really good time."

"Any good . . . day spas?"

"Not really, I . . . "

Then Rita had a thought. She looked closely at the young woman on the screen.

"Raven," she said, "I've discovered a simply wonderful little Bistro that serves the most amazing brunch. There's also a day spa here I'd like you to try. When can you come up?"

Raven's entire body seemed to relax. She didn't quite slump with relief, but it was clear to Rita's experienced eye that she's just gotten through a major ordeal."

"Oh," said Raven casually, "I'm free for the next couple of days. How about, um . . . tomorrow?"

Rita smiled. "All right. I'll see you early tomorrow morning, and we'll do brunch and the spa."

It was nearly a day later, after a lovely brunch that the two women lay back. They were covered in mud up to their necks, hair up in towels and cucumbers over their eyes. Each woman had her own small bath and rested her head on a folded towel at one end of the little enclosure.

"Okay Raven," began Rita, "It's been fun, but it's time to pay the piper."

A whisper of dark energy lifted the cucumber off of Raven's right eye and she peeked out of one corner to see Rita. The older woman had discarded her cucumber slices and was resting her chin on her hands on top of the glazed brick surround of her mud pit and looking at Raven with an expectant expression.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," replied Raven.

"Raven," said Rita, shaking her head, "You called me out of the blue. You waved around paper-thin excuses to come out here, and then you flew a red-eye flight through the night to get here. Something's on your mind and you don't want to talk about it over the phone. It's private. Ok, fine. We're face-to-face. Dump the poke out and let's see if the little porker oinks or meows."

Raven heaved a sign. This was hard.

"Well, I've been doing a little business travel lately. Things are kind of quiet in Jump City, so I've been being loaned out to other places that need someone who can deal with mystic stuff. I've been trying to take some of the load off of Zatanna."

"Right. So?"

"So – I was in Blüdhaven, you know, near Gotham City, a little while ago, and, um, I met this guy. Well, didn't exactly meet him, see, it's more like I knew he would be there, so I went looking for him, sort of hoping to run into him except that . . . " her voice trailed off as she tried to take a breath.

"Okay, so, you met a guy you've known before while you were out of town on business. And?"

"Well, see . . . I like him. I mean, I don't 'Like him,' like him, but you know, I mean . . ."

"You mean you get along well, and find him attractive, but for any of a number of reasons you don't care to go into, he's not "the one" and you both know it."

"Um, yeah."

"I see," said Rita, arching an eyebrow. "I think I know where this is going," she continued drily.

"Maybe," thought Raven, "This isn't such a good idea. I forgot: Rita's _really_ old-fashioned."

"Anyway . . . we went out to dinner, and one thing led to another . . ."

"Raven," said Rita, sharply, "'Things' don't just 'lead to' other things. Own your decisions."

Raven blinked. "We sorta hooked up."

Rita just sat there, silently watching. Raven blinked her eyes and looked down.

"So," said Rita, "Why bring this to me?"

"I don't have another woman to _talk_ to. I barely know Jinx, and every other person I run with is a _guy._ I'm trying to get a handle on my own motivations and . . ."

"And you're afraid any guys you talk to will get the wrong idea."

"Sort of."

Rita just sat, silently watching as Raven struggled with what she wanted to say. Eventually she had pity.

"Was he nice?"

"Not nice, exactly. He's a good man, but rough around the edges."

"One of my favorite types," said Rita. "And you've known him awhile."

"A while, yeah. Most of my friends tend to be guys."

"I've noticed. It's not your fault. Fewer women than men are in our line of work, and most of those don't work together."

"I knew he wouldn't hurt me, he's cute, and utterly, utterly discreet."

"Uh-huh. So, Raven, it's pretty clear why you chose _him._ Care to go into why you were looking for anyone at all?"

And so, with many hesitations and false starts Raven laid it out for her.

"I needed to know if I was actually attractive, or if Garfield just . . . settled for the grey girl because he was green."

"I wanted to see if you were right about men, even the good ones, accepting sex if its offered."

There was a long silence.

"And, I'd only been with two men, and the first one was really lame. I wanted to find out . . . ."

"Find out if you could enjoy sex with anyone else, or if Garfield was just a fluke."

"Or if I had to be . . . head over my heels in love."

Raven leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the cool bricks. "And now I feel," she said "like such a slut."

Rita pursed her lips and waited for the question.

"Am I?"

Bam. There is was.

"Raven," the older woman said gently, "I can't answer that for you. Only you can. But let's take a look at the facts. You're single, right?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Then you don't owe fidelity to anybody but, maybe, yourself. Also: you've been with three men, and that took you, what, five years? In your twenties?"

She looked down and to the left, then nodded.

"Your first boy, Garth, was it? He pursed you, didn't he?"

She nodded silently again.

"And Garfield – he came to you, too, didn't he?"

"Well, that was kinda mutual. The attraction, I mean . . . but I . . ."

Rita interrupted. "I probably don't need to know the details."

Raven flushed maroon.

"So, then, in Blüdhaven you found yourself in a strange place with a man you knew and trusted. Four months ago, you abruptly came out of a deep, intensely sensual relationship. In your mid-twenties, it was the first one of your life. And so, at this point in your life you have set your cap for, pursued, and successfully seduced a total of _ONE_ man. _Maybe _two. And you're worried about being a slut? I've changed my mind: I _can_ answer that question. Raven, child, for child you clearly are, hanging three shelves does _not_ make you a carpenter. Get back to me when your _lifetime _notch count gets into double digits, or your annual one gets above _two._"

"I was worried about what you'd think because of Garfield."

"You're . . . done. Apart. As his Mom I'll ask you not to rub his _face_ in it. It would hurt him, but you're both adults."

Raven smiled a tiny Raven smile. "Thanks, Rita."

* * *

Tamaran – Present Day

Garfield looked over the "construction" site where the communications center had been.

"Dang," he said, "I don't know who's been in charge of this, but it's a disaster."

Smoke was still rising from isolated areas of the complex. There was a large crater where the central information center had been, and the antenna array was a partially melted wreck. The air smelled of melted plastic, scorched steel, and burnt lubricants.

"Who's the director here?" he shouted.

A positively gigantic Tamaranian lumbered over. He looked to weigh around 420 pounds and stood maybe seven feet tall. His chest was a broad as an exterior door, and the sidewalk seemed to tremble when he walked. He had an enormous beard, and his forearms were about the size of Garfield's thigh.

"I'm Ragnarr, the project boss, outworlder. Who wants to know?"

"Um, me. I'm, ah, Captain Changeling, and the, um, Grand Ruler has sent me to . . . take charge . . . of the . . . work . . . site."

His voice trailed off as the hulking warrior began to grin. He looked around at his co-workers.

"I don't think so, outworlder. I don't care what kind of inferior races the Grand Ruler may have been rolling around with while she was away, but my crew and I don't take orders from tiny, weak, outworlders."

Garfield lifted up his warrant from Starfire and presented it. It may have shaken, you know, just a little.

The big man's hand enveloped Garfield's own as he took the document. Without reading it, he stuffed it in his mouth and ate it.

Garfield's fear suddenly dropped away. There was a _war _on. The long range communications to the troops in the field was _dead. _And this bonehead wanted to play games. Starfire, Tamaran, and Garfield himself had no time for this bullshit. He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.

"Why," he wondered, "does it always have to be 'the hard way?' But then," he thought, "the alpha wolf always has to test the younger ones, or no one knows where they stand in the pack."

He looked up coldly. "Is there a problem?"

The big man laughed. "No, no problem. I just don't like that you're so puny."

Garfield looked him dead in the eye. "That's not what your mama said."

The man looked down at Garfield for a moment. The Changeling's remark had been so unexpected that it took him a moment to process it. Then his eyes widened. Without warning, he struck Garfield across the face with an open hand. The green shapeshifter's head rocked back as his body soared head over heels ten feet, to gouge a small divot in the already-battered ground. He rose, and cracked his neck.

"You know," he remarked, and the larger man glared, "You move pretty quick . . . for an older guy."

The site boss roared in fury and charged the short distance. With another bellow of fury, he reached for the Changeling. Garfield flickered and turned into a giant kangaroo.[1] He reared back on his tail and delivered a devastating two-footed kick to the other man's belly and sent him flying back in the other direction. The massive Tamaranian flew back the other way a good fifteen feet, painfully landing on his ass.

Ragnarr rose, his face beet red, and steam coming out of his ears. He took a deep breath and a long, complex sentence in Tamaranian spewed from his mouth. Nearby construction workers winced. Garfield put on his smuggest, most shit-eating grin, stretched a hand out in front, and silently waved in the silent gesture that all makes are born knowing: "bring it, if you got it."

Ragnarr charged again, ready to deal with the kangaroo. He had so much momentum, and he center of gravity was so low, he would bowl the creature over, in spite of its mass. Changeling turned into a Tamaranian Watchdog. Ragnarr's eye grew huge as the giant maw of the creature opened. Unable to stop himself, he tumbled into the Garfield's gaping maw. Garfield closed his mouth.

"S-n-n-n-x-x-x-ch-ch-ch!"

The men who had gathered to watch, winced away. Every male sentient knows the sound.

"H-o-o-o-c-k-k-k!"

The sound of the hocking of a truly epic loogie.

"PAT-TAH-HOOEY!"

Ragnar sailed out of the mouth of the giant watchdog and hit a low, nearby wall with a resounding splat. He stuck for a moment, and then slid to the ground. Groaning, he stood, wiped the mucus off of his eyes and face.

Garfield spoke. "Ready to try that again, maybe a little slower? Charging in doesn't seem to be working for you."

The bigger man advanced slowly this time, in a wrestler's stance arms apart. The two combatants circled each other.

"We really don't have time for this," Garfield said conversationally. "We have a _lot_ of work to get done. I'm going to give you one more fall. After that, I'm going to get serious."

Ragnarr's hand blurred as hit darted out and he grabbed Changeling by the wrist. In a flash he had the smaller man turned around and his arms pinned behind his back in a hold wrestlers call the 'double-chicken wing." He threw Garfield to the ground and landed on top of him with a meaty thump.

"Now, outworlder, I'm going to beat you down."

Ragnarr headbutted Garfield on the back of his head. The smaller man saw stars as his own forehead tapped the ground. He shook his head to clear it.

"Ready?" he said. "Watch your wrists and elbows. I'm going to need you and I don't want your shoulders dislocated or your wrists broken."

Ragnarr strained to hold his grip on Garfield's arms as they swelled and lengthened. A normal human would dislocate his own shoulders before breaking a chicken-wing hold with brute strength, but the heavy bones and thick tendons of the green sasquatch had no trouble holding up under the load and Ragnarr found his hands unable to keep their grip on Garfield's expanding forearms. The gigantic cryptid grabbed the site boss, spun him briefly overhead and very carefully slammed him to the ground. The man's breath whooshed out as he lay on his back. Garfield flickered back into his human form.

"That's it," he said authoritatively. "I'm done playing. We've got work to do, and I've demonstrated that I can kick the ass of any man on this job site. Anybody else who has any problems I'm sending to Princess Starfire to discuss them, and they're traveling like this."

Suddenly an emerald green T-rex stood in his place. It spun in place, its tail barely missing Ragnar where he lay. The tail slammed into a large piece of debris weighing several hundred pounds and sent it soaring through the air, several blocks to the east, where it cratered the street when it landed.

"Any questions?"

Two hours later Ragnarr had been hosed off and he, Garfield, and two under-bosses huddled in the site trailer.

"Sorry," Ragnarr said with a slight sullen air, "It's going to take eighteen months to rebuild the building. It won't GO any faster. Even with more men and more equipment, there's built in limits as to how fast you can dig, how fast concrete cures and so on."

"Then it doesn't matter," said Changeling. "We don't need a _building,_ we need communications back up. Where's the nearest University?"

"Uni-?" Ragnarr blinked.

"You know – college? Seat of higher learning? The place where all the egg-heads go to to spend their grants?"

"Ah. In your language, the closest is Tam-Tech. They are not far. I will take you there. This will be amusing."

"All right. The rest of you detail 20% of the team to continue site clean-up and preparation. The rest: pack up all this gear and these supplies and get them ready to move."

As the two men left, Garfield asked Ragnarr, "What's going to be amusing?"

"You thought I was tough? The guys you're about to fight with have _tenure._"

* * *

The next day the team gathered for a planning session, and the Changeling reported out.

"We should have low bandwidth comms online in about thirty six hours."

Nightwing looked Changeling up and down. He had a black eye, the remains of a bloody nose, and it looked like one of his ears was swollen.

Starfire exclaimed, "But . . . I was told it would take a year and a half. That is why fleet set up the couriers."

"It's the kind of miscommunication you get in large movie studios," Garfield explained. "You gave the order to fix the communications center, not re-establish the comm links."

"Then how did you fix the coms without replacing the building."

"I nationalized Tam-Tech University. You're going to have some grumpy trustees in the throne room today. They had an entire astrophysics department that already had all kinds of transmitted and antennas pointed at the sky. Now they work for you, not the board of trustees."

He continued. "Replacement equipment and upgrades to expand their capacity are being delivered and set up now. I also commandeered some kind of sporting area to expand into."

"Yo salad-head," said Cyborg, "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to be good for much else for a while. They really hate the new way of things, and I'm going to have to stay on top of it to keep it from falling apart. Sorry."

"No," said Starfire smiling brilliantly. "If we can truly talk to the Fleet by the day after tomorrow, it is more excellent, and more than anybody else could have done."

Raven looked at Starfire's brilliant smile directed at Changeling and her stomach burned in spite of herself. She looked away.

It was some days later that the Grand Ruler of Combined Tamaran was walking through the upper floor porch that provided a back way from her briefing room to her quarters, among other things. Palace staff barely used it, and most people didn't know it was there. It was quiet, rarely trafficked, and private.

Which made it an ideal place for Raven to meditate.

Koriand'r was almost halfway across the gallery when she realized that Raven was floating there near the other end, almost blocking the exit. She could not pass without disturbing her. Starfire stopped, then turned to go back.

"You should not have to walk around me in your own house. I can move," Raven said, eyes closed.

Starfire froze.

"I know you are there. I can sense things, remember?"

Starfire stood there for a moment, swallowed, and then straightened her shoulders.

"I remember many things. I remember the scent of herbal tea at dawn. I remember the sound of your voice in laughter. I remember your quiet wisdom. And I remember the great passion I always saw within you."

She walked closer.

Raven opened her eyes and turned her head to watch the Tamaranian woman approach. Her body rotated beneath her, and she unfolded her legs and stood from her levitating seat.

The two women stood, eye to eye and alone for the first time since "the incident." They'd not spoken directly since that day. They'd barely made eye contact.

"You . . . " Starfire began. She trailed off. Then tried again.

"You have questions." It was a statement.

"How," Raven said, "Could you hurt me like that?"

Starfire removed the coronet of the Grand Ruler and carefully placed it on the wide ledge of the arcade wall. On her planet, in her culture, she'd done nothing wrong. The act she'd engaged in with her friend held no more social significance for her than one of her bone-crushing hugs. It was fun, comforting, and made her feel safe. She carried no guilt for that at all. But hurting Raven. For any reason. _That_ burned her soul.

Her green eyes looked into Raven's own amethyst ones.

"There are," she began, "the answers to be had. I do not offer excuses, but there are facts about me you may not know. If you still care about me enough to learn them."

She turned and looked out over the city and braced herself for Raven's response. The long silence stretched out.

"Starfire," said Raven, "I've come fourteen trillion miles in what amounts to a small car to a world that is not my own to fight by your side in a war with ravening lizard monsters under circumstances that will almost surely lead to disaster. I think you can assume I still care."

Starfire sighed in relief and began to lay it out for her.

She started with Tamaranian views on sexuality.

"But," she said, "I do not claim that that gives me 'the pass'. I know that earth-girls do not generally behave in this way. And I tried very hard to behave like an earth-girl."

Then she went on to talk about how in her species reacted to stress. How, the behaviorists said, Tamaranians responded to danger with reproductive urges.

"So, in ancient times, you see, we would get the impulse to pass on our genes when it looked like we might get killed. It is a racial survival impulse."

She blushed slightly. "Danger makes many of us, include me, the, um, 'horny.'"

Raven started to speak, but Starfire over-road her.

"Wait. This, for me, is the hard part. Please be patient. All the rest is background."

And Starfire talked about the "missing" years. Five years under the "ownership" of the Citadel, rented out on an annual basis. Her eyes closed, she talked about the things done with her and to her for the entertainment or profit of her "owners." Powers suppressed or exploited. Humiliated and shamed.[2] Raven had started out impatient with the recital of ancient history, but got more and more quiet and Starfire went into her background.

The Grand Ruler of Combined Tamaran dropped to her knees as if she were exhausted. Her hands covered her face as she spoke about "the box." She covered her face with her hands and described being trapped in the tiny space, so close that her breasts pressed the "lid" every time she inhaled. Nothing to breathe but the increasingly stale air inside with her. Unable to move her arms.

"Azar," whispered Raven. "Starfire, you've been sweet and happy since you came to earth. How . . . how after all of that can you believe good of _anybody?"_

Starfire suddenly lifted her face and looked at Raven, with a look of utter bewilderment on her face. Raven reared back. She'd never seen Starfire like this. Her eyes were puffy from weeping. Tears streaked her flawless skin. Snot trailed from both nostrils. Her skin was blotchy and patchy.

"It was because of _you_," Starfire practically shouted.

Raven actually threw an arm in front of her face as if to ward off an accusation.

"Me? But . . . how? I'm . . ."

Starfire sniffed and looked down at her hands, now pressed between her knees.

"When I was in the hold of the slave ship, I noticed that the door had the thin armor. Much weaker that the ones at the Citadel, and I realized I had to do the breaking out of the cell. But I had no place to go. If I returned to Tamaran, the Gordanians would return, or my parents and Parliament would send me back to the Citadel. So I decided to do the dying."

"Wait, I don't understand . . . I thought you said . . ."

"Yes, Fr - , Raven. The instinct to survive is strong in Tamaranians. It is one of the things that makes us 'good' slaves. But I thought that, perhaps, if I could break out of my cell, I could fight long enough and strong enough that I could . . . force them to kill me."

"Azar, Metrion, and Trigon," murmured Raven.

"I was shocked when I actually broke free of the slave ship. I had thought they would kill me before letting me fly free."

She looked back up at Raven again, sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her bare arm.

"Of all the places I could have broken out, I got clear in visual range of your small blue planet. And of all the places I could have landed, it was at the Pizza Parlor."

Her face darkened and she looked back down at her hands. Looking closely, Raven noticed something she'd never seen before. Starfire had always, _always_ worn gauntlets. Tonight she had taken them off on the way back to her rooms. Her forearms were bare.

This close, in this light, Raven saw them: the scars around her wrists.

"And then the boys came. First Robin. Arrogant, strong, Loud. I did not understand what he said, but I knew that anyone who caught me would do the selling of me back to the Citadel."

"Robin wouldn't . . ."

"I know that now. Then, he was just another alpha male who . . . my experience with males for the last five years was not . . . positive."

"No," said Raven, softly. "I guess not."

"Then there was Beast Boy. In the box I had waking nightmares. Horrible visions built of fear and lack of air. They had no regular shape, but would change. From Gordanian overseers to my sister's laughing face, to the blortworld of Vornax-III . . . He was my nightmares made flesh."

She shuddered.

"And then the man-machine. He was enormous and almost as strong as I. " She looked back up. "I was the desperate. Once I got my starbolts free, I was _sure _I could put up enough of a fight that I could force them to kill me rather than take me again."

She looked up again. "And then you came. _YOU._ The tears started to flow again. _YOU _saw the terror under my fury. _YOU _stopped the boys. _YOU_ said that 'Maybe fighting's not the answer.'"

Starfire's luminescent eyes burned into Ravens like flaming emeralds. "Raven – had you not spoken when you did, I would have fought the boys until I _died,_ or they did. It was because of your perception and your wisdom that Robin freed me from my shackles. I had despaired, and you brought me out of the darkness and into the light. You brought me to a world where the people are 'nice' and do not sell you into unspeakable bondage. You brought me to the man I will always love. You gave me my sanity, a home, a purpose and a future. You, who claim you were born to do horrible things, you who believe you walk alone in the darkness, bring others back into the light."

She sighed and closed her eyes again. "And I repaid you for all of that by breaking your heart. I do not understand why what I have done would hurt you so badly, but I am not so stupid as to fail to see it, and now I do not know what to do . . . You were my only friend that is a girl, and now you hate me and I have none at all . . . I am all alone again . . . and it is very dark . . ."

Her voice trailed off and her shoulders began to silently shake.

Raven stood frozen. This was not at all what she had expected. The waves of feeling coming off of Starfire could have been felt by the mind-blind from ten feet away. They washed over the empath without mercy: fear, terror, pain, loneliness, black despair, and utter, soul-wrenching sorrow. Even Raven can only take so much. Her heart broke.

"This," thought Raven, "Is going to hurt."

And she stepped over, dropped to one knee, and took the sobbing young woman in her arms. The tidal wave of darkness washed over her. Raven's lifetime of training allowed her to stand tall and strong before the raging torrent as she pulled Starfire's head to her breast.

"And so," Starfire struggled doggedly on, "I was with the Changeling in the tiny dark space. Oh Raven, do not have the anger at him any longer – it was _all_ my fault. In the dark and the dank . . . the space was closing in and I could not breathe and I could not get out. I was beginning to panic, and I would have killed us both if he had not done something. He grabbed me to get my attention. Just to talk to me. And his touch on my shoulders . . . his hands are so . . . strong. Commanding. Powerful. So . . . male. I needed him so very badly, I fear I did not think of you. I did not think _at all._ And the space was so small – he was practically doing the _swimming_ in my pheromones. His senses are so sensitive! I destroyed your happiness just by being what I am!"

"Shhhh . . . . Starfire. It's going be okay."

More weeping.

"Starfire, can you hear me?"

The redhead nodded.

"I don't hate you. I never hated you. I admit – I wanted to. But I was just really, really pissed off. I just needed some physical and emotional distance. And now I'm over it. Really."

She rocked the taller woman in her arms.

"But – you have not spoken to me since . . ."

"Okay, so I'm only over it very, very recently."

* * *

[1] Technically, a Procoptodon, from the Pleistocene period. They grew to about 6' 6" tall and weighed in at 510 pounds.

[2] Starfire's Origin story in the Teen Titans omnibus contains a montage of Starfire in chains and Blackfire laughing. It's disturbingly bondage-erotic. I've always been amazed that the art got past the Comics Code Authority back in the '70's. But there was nothing explicit. Just "heavily implied." Kind of like asphalt is "heavily applied" to an interstate highway. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind what kind of slavery Starfire was in before coming to Earth.


	56. Changeling Speaks

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs –

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne – Glad you liked it. Yeah, Marv was, indeed.

BloodRose101 – Always love to hear from you.

Chowbo – Yeah. Giant Tamaranian loogie. I still laugh about it.

Mr. BrotherGrizzly – So happy you decided to stay with me.

Shadico – Hope you like the conversation with Nightwing in this chapter.

Randamwriter – Will the weekend in Bludhaven come up? Ain't tellin'.

NicolethePenguin – Tolja I could pull it together.

JohnXGambit – Sorry it took so long. Been busy.

Fusiontech45 – Thanks. I love writing Rita.

Dablman2020 – I was wondering if anyone would catch that.

Serenarey – I'll see what I can do.

Arashikage1988 – Glad you liked it.

Anonymous – I'm flattered. Nice to year from you.

Katwizzle – Always good to get input from you. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

TheBlueRingOfHope – Thanks for the input.

Theluckyshot – I'm working on it.

Egg1 – Thanks!

Tatsumarusmith – "Nice to be quoteable."

BBLover – Well have to see how it goes.

Victorthe3rd – Yeah – I know. It takes forever. I'm going to try to patch the remaining two relationships in the next chapter. But at the rate I get through things, it may take more than one.

Luv4life – Thanks! Hope to hear from you again.

Krostovikraven1 – Thank you so much for all of the feedback. Sadly, if I respond to each one, I'll be at this for hours, and I think we'd all rather have me writing the next chapter. So instead I'll just comment that you don't seem to like cliffhangers. And to think: I'm not even TRYING to write them. Maybe I should TRY for cliffhanger, eh? Several people did point out that He-Man and Buzz-Lightyear are about a decade apart. Yeah – the timeline is a little mushy.

Guest – You know: I actually went and looked that up. But the total time I spent on my research and the arithmetic was like three minutes. I probably dropped an order of magnitude somewhere along the line. That should have been roughly a nine-hour flight, I think.

ssjEasterBunny – Well then, I'll just have to write Garth WORSE then. J Yeah – I LOVED writing that party. I love dressing them up and sending them into formal environments. (And it's both. Paint her, THEN nail her. In that order.) I know: using Rita for Raven's foil is weird. But the thing is – Raven didn't need a girlfriend at the time (although that's an issue for her), what she needed was a Mom. Rita was the only one I had that was remotely handy. I mean, I might could have borrowed Diana Prince, but that would have been even MORE of a stretch.

Anonymous – Tens of thousands. You flatter me. I've only got about 250 readers. But thanks. Oh, and I update "when it's done." I try to make it once a week these days, but recently it's been like every three weeks.

Me – Yeah. Ok. Here's an update.

Writewords – Cliffhangery? Really.

thedrunkencupcake – I'm pretty sure you can get these onto your kindle. Not sure how, but I know it can be done.

Lovelymagicdarkstrength – It's just because they care about the characters. I take it as a compliment. A really flamey, pointy, harsh compliment.

Zekiev Clayton – Yeah, that was kinda my plan.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, as usual, when the time comes for author's notes, time is short and I need to get somewhere, so I really feel like I'm shorting you guys. I know that things have been moving slow lately, but I've had some personal and professional commitments that have absorbed all of the time I would normally spend writing. Plus this particular chapter came out slowly. Like a new bottle of ketchup. We continue to get closer to the end. I'm working very hard to discipline myself away from any sudden side-trips. In this chapter I did manage to reconcile not just one, but two relationships. At least mostly. We also get an interesting little dollop of verbal poison from Blackfire that I don't think most of you will have seen coming. Looking farther ahead, we will have Changeling cross-dressing, an epic battle with the Gordanians, and a plot twist all the way the top.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

It was an unlikely friendship: Changeling the youngest of the Titans, and Armorer, the oldest of Koriand'r's senior staff. Starfire introduced them.

"And this," she said, "Is Armorer. He knows more about weapons and weapon-smithing than _anyone else!_ He was Armorer for my father, and for my father's father."

Armorer was the oldest Tamaranian Changeling had ever seen. He was skinny, tiny, and bent over. He had long grey hair and was mostly bald on top. He wore a scraggly beard and his eyes were a milky grey.

Cyborg said, "Nice to put a face to the name," and extended a hand.

Armorer stared at it curiously, and then smiled. "Ah, extending the empty hand – demonstrates lack of weapon – positive intent."

The old man tentatively clasped hands with Cyborg. But it was the Changeling that kept coming down to the machine shop in his downtime as the days passed.

"Young man, I never see you under arms," asked the old man one day. "Why is that?"

"Oh," replied Changeling, "I lack the discipline to truly master a martial art. And my fighting mode is instinctive. Check it out."

Changeling flickered into his various combat forms.

"Each form has an instinctive fighting style – no thinking, so I can't screw up," said Changeling as he resumed his humanoid form. "Pretty sweet, eh?"

The old man shook his head. "If you're still alive, it must be working for you. And to hear the tales in the bars and taverns, you eat construction workers and spit out their bones."

"That story," smiled the young man, "has grown in the telling, I think."

"So why," continued the older man, "Does a man who eschews the weapons I craft spend so much time here."

"Well," said Changeling, "I'm not much help at the strategy table, and besides, this stuff is just incredibly _cool!"_

Armorer smiled at the enthusiasm in the young man's voice, and began to tell him about the different instruments around him.

"There are all prototypes, of course. And since the shooting war started I haven't had time to do much new development. It's all been about trying to adapt what we already have in the field to last longer, hit harder, and go faster."

The two men wandered through the large garage. "Most of this gear is about ready to roll out, one way or another."

"Hey," asked Changeling. "What's that?"

He pointed to a very tall, dust-draped figure in a distant corner of the enormous garage. The top of it almost grazed the roof.

"Oh, that? It was supposed to be battle armor for the Grand Ruler. It was an early effort, before the shooting war started. I collaborated on it with your friend, Cyborg. Sadly, it doesn't work."

Changeling peeked under the drape, "Dang. This thing must be, what, fifty feet tall? "You've built a mecha! Cyborg designed a war-mech for Starfire!"

"I think that's what your friend called it. I just call it the "dust collector."

Changeling looked under the drape again. "If it doesn't work, why is it plugged in and have the lights on?"

"I pick at it from time to time. Keeping it on the main power grid keeps the computer online and all of the hydraulic fluid circulating."

"Why doesn't it work?" asked Changeling.

"We built a big core of atomic batteries for it. Your friend Cyborg called it 'going old-school.' Sadly, the energy matrix turned out to be too dense. We can't generate enough power to get the battery core to charge."

"Bummer," said Changeling.

"It is, indeed," said the old man. "Now, over here . . . "

And the weapons master and the weaponless warrior continued to walk around the hanger discussing the prototypes.

It had been several weeks since the Titans had come to Tamaran. They'd been into the field both in small groups and singly, supporting different units and achieving different objectives. One thing was clear – by lending their power to any particular mission, the Titans were able to tip the balance of any given fight in the Tamaranians favor. Slowly, painfully, the Gordanian advance ground to a halt. Then the conflict descended into a bloody stalemate where neither side could advance. Then something ugly came up in a staff meeting.

It had been a long day, and a hard one. Lives had been lost to no point, and bad news had come in from all fronts. People were exhausted, injured, or oozing blood. Komand'r had been in fine voice, pointing out every mistake, every error, and every flaw until Changeling, overcome with irritation, lost his temper.

"Oh why don't you just shut your foul mouth? Everybody's doing their best. If fact, if we dig enough, this entire mess will probably turn out to be _your fault!"_

Silence reigned in the briefing room. Since the beginning Komand'r had provided solid information, good advice, and her personal valor had been unquestioned. There had been an unspoken agreement that, at least until the crisis passed, there would be no mention of her prior behavior and Changeling had just broken it. Starfire's older sister stared at Changeling. Her eyes narrowed. Both Starfire and Nightwing moved to defuse the moment, but then Komand'r began to laugh.

Her voice was rich and broad, a powerful alto brimming with confidence and amusement.

"Oh," she said. "That's rich. Just too funny. You are _so_ cute."

The raven-tressed woman flung her hair over one shoulder and put both of her feet on the briefing table and crossed her ankles. In the process, her black micro-mini hiked up past the point of decency, but she appeared not to care. She grabbed a flagon of wine and tossed back a huge gulp, wiped her mouth, and laughed again.

"You haven't told _any_ of them, sister dear, have you? Not even your jetan-master there," Komand'r gestured to Nightwing.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Cyborg.

She giggled again. "Don't take that tone with me little man. _I_ am not the villain here. Oh Grand Ruler, do enlighten your Captains!"

Starfire's lips pressed together, and she looked away. Her face flushed with . . . shame?

"Oh, all right," said Komand'r. "I'll do it. You see, my sanctimonious little band, _I_ negotiated a peace. The Gordanians were the aggressors in those days, but I managed to negotiate a peace. Their leader named his price, and Mommy and Daddy accepted it. And we paid it. The little favorite got a new place to live, and a new way to make a living. Oh, I don't claim that I didn't _get_ something out of it. Just my _birthright."_

Komand'r's face twisted bitterly for a moment. The she continued.

"But the fact of the matter is that when dear little Sister escaped, she broke more than that ship. She also _broke the agreement._ And _you people _and the Earth gave her aid and comfort. And it wasn't enough for you to just _kill_ poor Lord Trogar – you had to publicly humiliate him in the process."

The Titans stared.

Komand'r giggled. "Oh, Trogar was _way_ up in the Gordanian hierarchy. When you murdered him while he was trying to recover his legal property, the whole upper echelon of Gordanian society turned upside down. From what I hear, it was like a kicked-over tromit-mound. But Trogar's relatives came out on top. And now they are out for blood!"

"Starfire," said Cyborg, "Is this true?"

Starfire's face went white. She put her hands behind her back to hide the trembling, straightened her back and said quietly, "I did not think it mattered; I cannot go back there. It is not that I will not. I cannot."

Nightwing rose and walked over to where Starfire stood alone and spoke, "No, you can't. And you're not going to. I thought I made that clear a long, long time ago."

Cyborg added, "And no one is going to ask you to." He glared pointedly at Komand'r.

She laughed again. "Oh don't get all high-and-mighty. If I could have bought peace by selling her again, I would have thrown her in a transport container and shipped her off when she got here, not put that coronet on her head. That broken treaty keeps the Guardians of the Universe and some of the other do-gooder-buttinski's around the galaxy out of the war. But Gordania is here for plunder and slaves. Getting hold of _her_, and you people, will just be a bonus."

The group sat around the table for a few moments, the awkward silence getting thicker and thicker.

"I think," said Nightwing, "we've covered all we can tonight. I've gotten a couple of ideas. I'll work on them this evening, and we'll go over them at the morning briefing."

The small group parted and each made his way to his room. Except Changeling, who watched Starfire depart, face drawn and hands shaking. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and headed out to the balcony to look at the stars.

The stars on Tamaran are very vivid and thickly scattered across the night sky. The thin air and low ambient lighting of a city fearing periodic air raids made for wonderfully rich starscapes. Since their arrival, Changeling had spent a lot of time out here. Sometime with a glass of the potent Tamaranian wine, but more often not, simply looking up at the white hot specks and trying to guess which one was home. Tonight he'd come to contemplate Starfire. Changeling rubbed his forehead. His friend was in trouble. She'd taken on the mantle of the Grand Ruler of Tamaran out of a sense of obligation, and was trying her best. She usually listened to Robin – Nightwing, rather. When she didn't, it was because she'd caught a nuance of Tamaranian culture or "human" nature that he'd missed. And she was doing a good job. The people were pulling together. The troops were inspired. But she wasn't . . . suited to it. She's lost weight. Her face was drawn. Her good humor and cheery disposition were getting very ragged. She put up a good front, but anyone who knew her could tell she wasn't sleeping.

"The problem," said the gravelly voice from behind him, "with being a wartime leader is that even when you make the _right_ decisions, people die, stuff gets destroyed, and it's on you."

He spun.

"Raven! I . . ."

She held up a hand. Her face remained utterly flat. Her voice held no inflection at all.

"Go to her. _Talk_ to her."

"But I . . ."

Raven's eyes squinted shut and her face turned away.

"Dammit! For _once_, just do as I ask."

She turned to face him once again and stepped back. "We've made our peace, she and I. It wasn't at all like I expected. Whatever you and I once were, whatever has happened, she needs her friends around her _now._ Our . . . old business can wait."

"I'm doing my best."

"You're doing your best as 'Captain of Comms.' And it's good work, too. But she has plenty of Captains. Right now she feels like she doesn't have any friends at all. And I know something about feeling completely and utterly alone."

She looked away again out over the city.

"Yes, by Trigon, I do."

She turned again, face in shadow, starlight glinting on her eyes. "And what she needs now more than anything else is to have her friends around her again. Go. Try to make her eat tofu. Play a juvenile prank. Hug her. Tell her stupid jokes. Make her feel . . . cared for."

He stepped toward her. "I'd rather . . . "

"_Not now!_" She held up a hand. "I . . . can't. I'm sorry. Sorrier than you can know. But Starfire can't wait much longer."

A chill breeze fluttered through the thin Tamaranian air. Loose leaves from the hanging baskets rustled around the floor. Blackness wrapped around Raven and she vanished through the floor.

Garfield stood on the balcony for a little while longer and then sighed.

Turning, he worked his way through the private residence section of the Grand Ruler's palace, crossing rich, scarlet carpets and past elaborately carved wall panels until he rounded the last corner leading to Starfire's room. There, in front of the door stood Nightwing and Starfire in deep discussion. Garfield immediately shifted into a fly and clung to the ceiling of the hallway, watching. He could not hear them from here, but it was clear from the expressions on their faces that they were discussing a serious topic. Several times Nightwing's hand hovered over Starfire's shoulder, but it never seemed to land. Then Nightwing spoke, and Starfire nodded. He seemed to smile, then turned and walked away. Starfire waited just a moment, then her shoulders sagged ever so slightly, and she turned and went in the door.

Garfield flew to the door, and then flickered back into his human form. He took a deep breath, and then raised his hand and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

"Boom – boom – boom." The sound seemed to echo up and down the corridor. His eyes bugged out a little and he make a little squeaking sound.

The door was jerked open from the inside.

"Nightwing?" said Starfire, smiling broadly. Then she said, "Oh. Hi!"

She smiled again, this time a little uncertainly.

"You, have the question about comms? Or logistics? You are needing a decision that cannot wait until morning? Is there an emergency?"

Garfield raised both of his hands in a gesture of surrender, calming, and supplication, all at the same time.

"No, Star, I came to talk . . . personally. About, what happened, I guess. You know. Between us. That time. In the hole."

"Oh. I . . . see. Come – come in, please."

He closed the door behind him. The Grand Ruler of Tamaran had a large bedroom. The bed, like all Tamaranian beds Garfield had seen, was circular, but it was large enough to accommodate three or four people. The more he learned about Tamaranian mores, the less surprised he was by the furniture. There was a writing desk, elaborately carved, and a couple of over-stuffed easy chairs by a fireplace. Everything was upholstered in pink, purple, or fuscia. It was like Starfire's room back home, only bigger and more regal-looking. The coronet of the Grand ruler already lay in an open box on top of a large chest near one end of the bed. Starfire had evidently just begun to get ready for bed. Her gorget and breast plate had been removed, exposing her upper chest, but she still wore her vambraces.

"Please do the sitting. Can I pour wine or water?"

"Water please," he asked.

He sat down in one of the easy chairs, and she perched on an ottoman at his feet. She looked up at him, then away.

"I feel the awkwardness. We have not spoken privately since . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"I know. That's kind of why I'm here."

"I offer the – apology."

"Wait, what?"

"I have broken your friendship with Nightwing, I have broken your romance with Raven, and I have . . . damaged our friendship, just by being . . . what I am. I do not blame you that you have hated me."

"Star, wait, wait! Back up the guilt bus. You need to get off about two stops ago."

"What?"

"I came," he said, "to apologize to you."

"To _me?_ Why would I need the apology? You have done nothing to offend."

He looked away and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I did kinda take advantage of you when you were panicking. I mean, you were about to go into some sort of claustrophobic freak-out or something and I . . . well, took advantage. What happened was all my fault. I messed up my romance, messed up _your _romance, screwed up my friendship with Robin, and broke your girlfriend thing with Raven. Just because I was horny."

Starfire's leaned away, her head pulled back, and her chin dropped. "Did you not listen to me the whole of when I was speaking in that awful hole?"

"Well, yeah but . . ."

"I spoke of the not-liking of small spaces, and the stress reactions of some of my people, did I not?"

"Yes, but . . ."

She leaned forward, eyes slightly narrowed. "I confess that my judgment was poor. I was frightened and needed the comfort. But I also made my own choices. You were the high on my pheromones and could not help what you did. The fault was entirely mine."

"Do I get to speak? Or just get snarled at?"

Starfile blinked and settled back. "Again, I offer the apology. I am . . . tired and, distracted."

"It's okay. So, here are the facts from where I see it. You were panicking, and that kind of stress makes you . . . stimulated. I could have stopped it."

"But, my pheromones?"

"Starfire, I could have turned into a jellyfish. They have no nose. I could have turned into a cicada, which only mates every 17 years. I had plenty of options."

"Yes, Friend Changeling . . . you are still my friend, yes?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"None of those options would have helped me when I needed it. In my fear I . . . needed you, and you helped me. If you had not been there . . . if you had not done what you did . . . I would have had tried to punch my way out of the earth, and almost certainly died."

"Star, I . . ."

She looked at the floor and said, "Thank you. You have saved my life. I know what it has cost you."

"Um," he rubbed the back of his head nervously. "You're welcome."

He smiled, tentatively.

"So," she said, "I am forgiven?"

"Star," he said, smiling tentatively, "I already told you – there's nothing to forgive."

She looked up at him, emerald eyes wide an innocent.

"Really?" she asked in a small voice.

He smiled softly. "Really."

Starfire leapt and seized Changeling around the chest, pinning his arms in place with no warning. She hauled him off of his feet and swung him around in a bone-bruising hug. Around and around he spun, feet not touching the floor.

"Star . . ." he whispered.

"I have missed you so much!"

She swung him around again.

"Star?" he hissed again.

"Why do you not say something Friend Changeling?"

"Can't . . . breathe . . ."

"Oh!"

Starfire set Garfield back on his feet and let go of him, his breath whooshing back into his chest.

"Eeeh-ahh!" he breathed, gasping.

Starfire turned away and filled a wine goblet with the deep, rich red wine she favored in her private quarters. She sipped for a moment.

"Eaah-ahh! Eaah-ahh. Eaah-ahh."

"Perhaps, if we are friends again, you can help me with something. I have the 'personal question.'"

She remained facing away. The young man caught his breath, and then sat back in the wingback chair.

"Sure Star, ask me anything." He took a deep draught of the water she had poured from him.

"What is it that makes me the 'lousy in bed?'"

"PHHBBBBBTT!" Changeling's spit-take sprayed a fine mist of water across the sitting area of Starfire's quarters. As she heard his reaction, the alien girl winced.

"I take it that . . . that is not a question earth-girls ask earth boys."

"Geeze, Star," he said, putting his goblet down on the wooden side table, "Sometimes, but it was about the last thing I expected."

"I am sorry, but you are the only earth-boy I have . . . been intimate with. I mean, other than . . . Anyway, I hoped you could tell me what I did wrong."

He blinked. He blinked again. He slowly rose and kicked the ottoman aside. Thinking furiously, he chose his words with great care.

"Starfire, there's nothing wrong with you. You're pretty. You're smart. You're hot. I've always thought that about you. But I . . . . that is . . ."

She turned suddenly, her long, scarlet locks flowing down over one shoulder.

"Please do not be the uncomfortable." She looked him straight in the eye. "I, too, find your shape aesthetically pleasing. I fear that that there is something . . . incompatible about my anatomy that would make an earth-boy . . . disinterested. In theory."

She looked away.

He licked his lips, again, selecting his words with extreme precision.

"Star, I normally don't think of you 'that way.' But you do just fine 'in bed.' You're skilled, talented, pretty, and enthusiastic. You're, um, a great, um, ride."

She turned again, her collar-bone standing out beneath her golden skin.

"Then why . . ." she broke off.

"Nightwing?"

"It is like he is 'Friend Robin' all over again! He is nice. He is pleasant. He is trustworthy. He shows the loyalty. He is very helpful. He acts like the best of friends. He is polite and courteous. He shows me the great kindness. He follows orders far better than I expected. He cheers me up. He wastes no resources. He is very brave. He is clean and Reverent. In short, the regular 'Boy Scout.'"

"But he's not . . . "

"Boyfriend Robin! I have tried all of the earth-girl wiles and I am getting _nowhere._ It is like the years in between never happened."

"We burned him pretty bad, Star. I'll be honest; some guys never get over it."

"Do not say such things. Oh! It is so _frustrating._ I do not deny that Raven and R-Nightwing were hurt. I can _see_ this. But I just do not _understand._ Please do the explaining?"

Garfield thought for a moment. Explaining human sexuality/emotion to an alien, when he barely understood his own.

"I think," he said, "I'm going to want some of that wine after all."

She pulled the ottoman back up and sat back at his feet.

"So, Star, do Tamaranians . . . um. Pair bond at all? I mean, you're so casual about sex that . . ."

"Of course we do," she interrupted. "To make bumgorfs requires one male and one female. Did not the Mento explain this to you?"

He glared.

"Sorry."

"So . . . Tamaranian pair-bonding?"

She smiled. "First, you have to understand: Tamaranians live by our feelings, not our intellect. We do things because we 'feel like it,' not because we 'think it's a good idea.' To us, the failing to act on a feeling is wrong. If I were to have a mate, he would not think of tell me not to act on my feelings. "

"Star, I don't get how your society can even function if everybody acts on every whim."

"I do not speak of the 'whims,' the simple, short-lived cravings, although they have their place, too. I speak of love, and passion. Of loyalty and of caring. And of rage and fury. On Tamaran, we do not believe these things have limits. Do you think that I care any less for Cyborg because you are my friend, too?"

He shook his head.

"Tamaranians do pair-bond. A pair of battle-maters is the apex of our relationships. The taking of a battle-mate is a sacred bond. It is the expectation that battle-mates will guard one another in battle, hunt and provide for each other, and reproduce together."

"Sounds kind of like married."

"It is very like an earth marriage, although we do not hold the absolutes. For example, if Cyborg and Bumblebee were to be battle-mates, but she or her family wanted the ability to shape shift to be added to her family line, you might be invited to mate with her."

"Really? That's . . . I'm sorry Star, but that's a little weird. For me, I mean."

"It it really so weird? You are strong, smart, and kind. You have great power."

"But isn't that an insult to Cyborg? Aren't you saying _his_ genes aren't good enough?"

"No," she said, slightly exasperated. "If she is chosen him for her battle-mate, she has _already_ said that she wants to reproduce him. His size, his strength, speed, and above all, his _genius_ make him a worthy mate."

"Then why . . .?"

"Because you, again we speak in theory, have the _different_ strengths to bring to the family line that she might want to bequeath to her daughters, and her daughters' daughters. Cyborg's opinion would, of course, be asked. In some pairings, he would even have the 'veto,' but that is unusual."

He looked skeptical. "That sounds awfully rational for a bunch of people who just 'live by their feelings.'"

"I never said we do not think," she replied. "I said we are driven by our feelings, not our intellect. We _think. _We just think about our feelings."

"I think I see where the big difference is, though," he said.

"Really?"

"When humans mate, they . . . belong to one another," he began. "When a man pair-bonds with a woman he . . . gives her the rights to . . . himself. He doesn't mate with other females, because he belongs only to her. The same goes the other way. That's why it's called 'cheating.' You're giving away something that doesn't belong to you anymore."

Starfire blinked. Then blinked again. "That," she frowned, "Makes no sense. How do you own parts of people you love? Owning parts of someone you love is . . . a disturbing concept. On Tamaran, there is a word for people who are owned. We call them 'tuvek.' Slaves."

Changeling blinked. That was a point of view he'd never considered. "It's a primal thing, I think," Changeling responded. "Knowing who your children are."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Human reproduction is expensive and dangerous. We mostly have single babies, it takes almost a year, and the mother is helpless for the last part of the pregnancy and the birth. Parents taking those risks want to know whose DNA they are taking risks for."

The corner of Starfire's lip quirked. "That sounds very primitive. On my planet we had those concerns tens of thousands of years ago. Then we learned to control conception. We only make bumgorfs when we choose. Do not human females have control over when they conceive?"

"Yeah, mostly. It's new though. Like last century."

"Goodness, no wonder you are so emotionally backward. In this, it is _you_ who are the barbarians. None of this, thought helps me to understand Friend Nightwing. We did not, you and I, conceive a bumgorf, a child."

"Star, I don't know Nightwing as well as I should. Hell, I'm not sure if I know him at all now. I can only speak for myself. But the idea that Raven, or Mitzi, or Agnes might have been unfaithful to me when we were supposed to be, you know, _together,_ hits me in the stomach like Cinderblock on a drunken rampage. It's one thing for a girl to have a history, or to have moved on after you break up, but when she's supposed to be with _me,_ it makes me feel small. Unworthy. Inferior. And that hurts. Then, men cover the hurt with anger, because showing pain is showing weakness. And men are never allowed to be weak. No one respects a weakling."

Starfire blinked.

Changeling swallowed, and rubbed the back of his head. He threw back the wine that was in the heavy metal goblet, and spoke, "I'm getting way out on a limb here, Star. Way, way out on a limb. I _don't_ know what I'm talking about. But if _I _was acting the way Nightwing is acting, it would be because you'd chosen someone else over me, and I was trying to deal with it without being a jerk."

Starfire slowly shook her head. "But . . . I have _not_ chosen you for a battle-mate. I do not mean to offend. You are well formed and very kind. You are strong and powerful and, um . . . the 'good ride.' But I only wish R-Nightwing for my battle mate."

Changeling replied. "it's okay, Star, like I said, I don't think of you 'that way,' either. But you _did_ mate with me, and on some level, Nightwing may feel that you have made a choice."

The alien girl frowned. "I have made no such choice. I must find a way to make him understand this."

"You need to talk to the Dude."

"That is proving to be more of a challenge than you might think. He is the very good at being hard to find a private moment with."

Changeling thought for a moment, considering his next words carefully.

"I need to mend some fences of my own. Let me talk to him first."

"Friend Changeling, you would do this for me?"

She flung her arms about his again, cutting off his air and twirling about the room. Her feet left the floor as the two of them pin-wheeled through the air.

"Star . . . can't . . . breathe . . . ."

The next day, Changeling gave careful consideration to how he would approach Nightwing. The man had been nothing but cordial since "the incident," but Changeling had broken like, Man Rule #3[1], Man Rule #4[2], and maybe some others.

"It will need to be on _his_ territory, so he'll feel like he's coming from the position of strength," he thought. "That's pretty easy. If he's not doing research or in a meeting, he's in the gym."

The Tamaranian training facility was different from those on Earth, at least visually. The tendency for Tamaranian designers to want to make everything look like a Hershey's kiss made the place look a little like a cross between a confectionary and St. Basil's cathedral in Moscow. But heavy bags work the same on Tamaran as they do on Earth. And floor mats perform the same function, as do speed bags, dumbbells and the like.

"And all gyms," reflected Changeling, wrinkling his nose, "Always smell the same."

When Changeling entered the room, Nightwing was on the balance beam. He stood feet spayed wide on the six-inch wide hardwood beam, about four feet above the floor. His hands were empty and out to his sides. His long, raven black hair was just tumbling down his shoulders. He'd clearly just executed a forward flip. Changeling grinned. Nightwing leaned forward, then sprang and flipped, his hand out to his sides. Midway through the somersault he was struck in the ribcage by three hundred seventy-five pounds of emerald green panther. As the two men hurtled through the air, Nightwing grabbed the panther by the shoulders and twisted his hips, leveraging his momentum. When they hit the floor mat, Nightwing was on top and his shoulder was right underneath Changeling's rib cage.

Air whooshed out of Changeling's lungs as Nightwing sprang to his feet into a martial – arts stance. He motioned to the green man in the universal gesture of "come get some, if you think you can handle it." The panther growled, morphed, and a long-armed orangutan stood on the mat, circling counter clockwise. Nightwing grinned and circled. The ape screamed and leaped. Nightwing flashed to one side only to be met by a green boa constrictor that had somehow gotten there before him. Changeling threw his coils around the other man, missing his arms but wrapping powerful green coils around his chest. The python's coils began to tighten.

"Ungh," Nightwing grunted, but his hands moved swiftly to the snakes hissing mouth, grasping a jaw in each hand. The muscles in his back, arms, and shoulder knotted as he heaved, pulling the serpents jaws apart. Wider and wider the snake's jaws opened, until the jaw dislocated and his skin began to creak.

Changeling flickered again, his jaws vanishing from Nightwing's fingers as an emerald humming bird flashed to the mat and orangutan stood there again, arms outstretched in a wrestlers crouch. The two men circled on another. They fought for about ten or fifteen minutes under a silent declaration. Without discussion, Changeling took no forms that significantly outweighed Nightwing. Nightwing used no equipment except his shoes. Never speaking, the two men moved faster and hit harder as the bout continued. Both began to sweat heavily. Eyes locked, they circled again.

Faster than the eye could follow Nightwing threw two rapid jabs at Changeling's face, battering his eyes and cheeks. The green man flinched away involuntarily, and Nightwing followed up with a haymaker to the ear. With a growl, Changeling rolled with the punch, tumbling backwards to land in a fighter's stance, snarling. Finally, tiring, Changeling tried a strike that proved a grave mistake. He took the form of a monkey and leaped at Nightwing, but was just a hair too slow. Nightwing caught him in a clothesline tackle and body-slam that would have been a fifteen-yard penalty in the Superbowl for unsportsmanlike conduct. Landing flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him, Changeling found himself unable to breathe. Nightwing cocked his right arm and set up for an elbow-slam to Changeling's solar plexus when the smaller man flickered back to his humanoid form, slapped at the mat, and hissed, "Matté."

Nightwing caught himself and stopped. He immediately bent over, hands on his knees, and began panting. Sweat dripped from his nose and ran into his eyes. Changeling gasped over and over again, each breath filling his lungs a little more until he could breathe almost normally.

"I'm sorry."

"Let me guess: you didn't mean to hurt me."

"Dude, you were not on my radar at all. Neither was Raven. Neither of you ever entered my mind at all."

"That," Nightwing said, "Is possibly the most self-absorbed thing I've ever heard you say."

"That," echoed Changeling, "coming from you, is the most ironic."

"Me, self-absorbed?"

"Red – X."

"Okay, I had that coming. Touché."

"You also took off without talking to Starfire _or_ me and giving us a chance to explain what happened."

"So explain now," the taller man said, "I guess the big question is, 'why?'"

"Huh," said Changeling. "I figured you were going to ask that. I don't have a good answer for you."

"How can you not have an answer?" Nightwing frowned.

"Because I've learned a lot about Tamaranian physiology and human emotion over the last four months, and there's stuff you need to hear. But not from me. You need to hear it from Starfire."

Nightwing looked away. "I don't know if I can."

"No guts, eh?"

Nightwing's head whipped back around.

"Well," Changeling said.

Nightwing nostrils flared as he snorted.

"Talk to her. If you're not satisfied when she's done, come to me and we'll go another couple of rounds. Or I'll answer any questions you still have."

Nightwing turned to leave.

"Dude," Changeling called after him. "Are we cool?"

The taller man didn't look back. But he paused at the door.

"Maybe. Depends what she says."

* * *

[1] Never pee upstream of where another dude is drinking. And we're not talking about water, here.

[2] Bros before hos. (Friendship comes before romance.)


	57. Can it get any worse?

Shout Outs:

Me – Thanks. And yes, it has taken a little while to get this one out.

Writewords – No worries. And I thought about concealing my gender for a couple of seconds, but decided that it was going to scream out from my prose. I am, in fact, 100% dude. And when I get through fixing the relationships, I'll see what I can do to keep the crap-density and little as I can.

Thedrunkencupcake – Glad you like it. Nice to hear from you.

Arashikage1988 – Hey now. _Carved In Stone_ isn't a pretender. And at least he updates faster than I do. He's getting out about 4 chapters to my one. But thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Radamwriter – Yeah. A lot of people don't see the subtle male/male communication going on there.

krostovikraven1 – I got a couple of weeks without an update, and everybody thinks I've bailed. Really, there's a happy ending, and I'm going to get to it if it's the last thing I do. And being set aside from her natural inheritance is the central fact of Blackfire's life. _Everything _else is secondary. And yeah, the Man Rules are very straightforward.

Chowbo – Thanks. I'll be sorting those last two relationships soon. Hopefully in the next chaper.

MrBrotherGrizzly – Men communicate that way. Especially close friends.

Zekiev Clayton – Thanks.

Blackheart214 – I'm glad you like it. Not everybody likes where I've taken the characters.

Paragon the Half-Dragon – Thanks for sticking with me. I know the chapters are taking longer than they used to.

JohnXGambit – Almost. I've got two more pillars to rebuild.

Egg1 – no quite. Probably the next chapter. Spoiler: it happens in Outer Perdition.

Dboot8 – Thanks. I will.

IanZakk – You have no idea.

Jerry ye cockroach – Like Raven's skin.

Dnchit – I did. And now I'm updating again!

Naomi – It was borrowed. Check the footnotes.

Lover – Yeah. Prince Garth is a playah. Remember, though, during her interlude with Garth, ALL her emotions were completely shut down.

Lover – That would be tellin'.

Guest: Glad you liked it. Tell your inner five-year-old not to fret too much. I will finish this tale, if it's the last thing I do. Garfield and Raven have some big scenes coming up, both apart and together.

BlackRevenant – Glad you like it. Always happy to hear from you.

Guest - Believe me, Starfire has noticed. And it's going to be addressed in one or two chapters.

Naomi – Weeks, eh? Just think about how long it took me to WRITE it.

Victorthe3rd – Glad to hear it. You're right, Robin's tone isn't quite right. He's the character I have the hardest time getting my brain around, and I often get his tone wrong.

Tatsumarusumth – Did your name REALLY have to be that long and difficult to type? Glad you liked it. Hope to hear what you think of this one.

Author's Notes:

Whew. This one was a long time coming. I've finally got all of the set pieces in place for the dramatic battle that's coming: in the next chapter. (Yeah, I know – I suck.) You're going to find a number of – dumb decisions in this chapter. They're there because I spent some time recently reading old comic books and watching the cartoons and I realized that I could get away with them, because they did it in the cartoons and comics all the time. As you read, you're going to ask yourself "why don't . . .?" and "How come . . .?" more than once. Here is the answer to all of those questions. It's the same answer that John Ford gave an interviewer when he asked a question about the movie "Stagecoach." "Why don't the Indians just shoot the horses?" The answer was "because then we wouldn't have a movie." So when you ask yourself "what kind of idiot would leave a giant tunnel under his city walls for a thousand years?" answer yourself with "the kind of idiot that gives us an entertaining story."

Here's the cross-dressing Changeling I promised all those Author's Notes ago, as well as Galfore's shit-job and Starfire's appalling decision. (They're the same thing, actually)

Looking a little farther down the road, we should be wrapping up on Tamaran in one to two more chapters. Well, three at the most. I will be reconciling the remaining two relationships in the next two chapters, and I think it might even be believable. It is my hope to get the next chapter out within the next couple of days.

It was at the early morning briefing that Nightwing revealed his new idea. The team sat around the conference table yawning and blinking their eyes. (There is no coffee on Tamaran. Oh, they've heard of it, but think about it: Starfire (and people like her) hopped up on caffeine. Bad idea.)

"It's simple," he said. "We all know how to play chess, or jetan, right? Well, we've been playing a great defensive game. But when was the last time you won a chess game defending?"

"You are saying," said Starfire, "We should be going on the offensive?"

He nodded.

"That's absurd," said Blackfire. "We haven't got the resources. It's taking everything we've got to hold the line."

"That doesn't matter," said Nightwing. "We also haven't got the resources to hold the line indefinitely. In fact, at the rate we're chewing through men and materiel we're going to be out of business in a year, anyway. I propose we put together a small, elite force and take a fast, stealthy ship to Gordania, and see what we can do about cutting the head off of this snake, once and for all."

"It is audacious, true. But Nightwing makes an excellent case. We must consider this carefully . . ."

Suddenly the air of the palace was split by a giant klaxon alarm.

"What the heck is _that?_" asked Changeling.

"That," said Blackfire, grimly, "is the system perimeter alarm."

_Twenty minutes ago, near the Vega primary . . . _

The bridge of _Welcome Wagon_ was as stark as any of the other Tamaranian warships but the activity of the crew made it seem warmer, rather than cold.

_"Sir,"_ said the navigator, _"I'm getting an odd reading in system."_

_"Odd how?"_ said Captain Krausa as he walked over to the station.

_"Well, I was just doing some routine exercises, and the course around the ecliptic got . . . longer, almost as though there were suddenly something in the way. The math just looks . . . funny. As though space has twisted."_

Krausa stared at the screen for a moment, then his eyes widened.

_"Comms,"_ he barked, _"open the command channel to the rest of the Home Fleet."_

_"Ready, sir,"_ responded the communications chief.

_"Sound general quarters! All hands to battle stations."_

Heads turned and eyes widened.

_"Helm! Make your course zero-zero, zero-zero mark zero-zero! Engineer! Get me your best speed to Tamaran!"_

_"Um, but Sir,"_ said the helmsman, confused, _"Our orders are to stay on station until . . ."_

Just then, space warped, twisted and deformed in the empty section of the Vega system, midway between the outermost planet and the Tamaranian home world. A yellow-green contrail streaked deeply into the system and a fleet of Gordanian warships burst into the system surrounded by an expanding cloud of plasma as well as metallic and organic debris.

The helmsman stared. _"They, they . . . _transitioned_inside__ the system! That means . . ."_

The captain interrupted him, shouting into the pickup. His voice echoed through the huge warship.

_"All hands brace for gravity-wave!"_

The great ship rocked and twisted as space itself was distorted, and then leveled out. Consoles flashed, flared, and then went dark. Bodies tumbled about the deck. For a moment there was chaos, then –

_"Get me a damage report! Helm! Status report!"_

The smaller man replied immediately, _"Sir, we're still under way at full power. Engines are nominal."_

_"ComMs! What about the rest of the fleet?"_

The communications officer turned. _"Summarizing now sir. Casualty reports are coming in from all over. Injuries are light, but damage to the fleet is moderate to heavy. Most ships were still in the process of coming to general quarters with the gravity distortion hit. Thirty percent will not be able to match our best speed."_

_"Damn," muttered Krausa. Then, louder, "If Charlie's gonna dance the Foxtrot, I'm not gonna just stand around wearing a dress.__**[i]**__"_

_"Sir?"_ said a young subaltern, confused.

_"Nothing. We're no good to Tamaran if we're not in the fight. Maintain course and speed. Advise all vessels capable to proceed to Tamaran with all due haste."_

Meanwhile, aboard the Gordanian battle cruiser "_Sword of Indomitable Might_ . . ."

_"Science officer, report," _Said Captain Corgash.

_"Initial reports are not conclusive sir, but at this early stage it would appear that our colleagues in Astrophysics were conservative. We had only a 28% loss of vessels, not the 33% they predicted."_

_The fleet commander bared his fangs, "Plenty, then to finish this once and for all!"_

In the Situation Room on Tamaran, Blackfire gave her assessment.

"I've got to admit," she said, blinking in shock, "I didn't even consider it. To _transition_ within the gravitational influence of a planetary system is hideously dangerous. The Gordanians lost around a third of the incoming fleet."

Changeling glared at her. "Uh-huh. And if you'd thought of it first?"

Her eyes glittered and she opened her mouth to reply.

"Stop the bickering. This is not useful," said Starfire. "How close are they? How much time before they get here?"

"About four hours," answered Blackfire. The Home Fleet will not be able to intercept, but will be in position to hit them from behind about an hour later."

"Instruct _Nightwing _to power up with orders to intercept. Form an ad-hoc fleet of whatever vessels are currently in orbit: everything that can move and do so much as throw a rock or draw fire. Their orders are to intercept and try to buy time for the home fleet to get here. Evacuate all population centers where possible. Where it is not possible to evacuate the cities, have the population proceed to whatever shelters are available. Prepare to activate urban defensive screens," said Starfire.

Changeling rose from the table. He stood stock still for a moment, looking at Raven.

"I – I, should get to Comms. They're going to need me."

Starfire nodded.

Raven watched as Changeling walked from the room, her head turning to follow him as he went out the door. She blinked twice, then turned back to the table as Nightwing began his analysis of the attack.

Changeling walked quickly through the corridors of the palace as Tamaranians of all shapes and sized walked or trotted with a purpose, all clearly intent on battle preparations. Everywhere around him could be found grim faces. Word had clearly been passed about the size of the invasion fleet.

"The Gordanians," he thought, "Must really have a hate-on for these people, to sacrifice a third of their invasion fleet just to enter the system."

He thought of Raven. He could still see her face in his mind's eye. She was just turning back to the table as he passed out of the doorway to the room. He could just see the left side of her face, her lavender hair falling forward to frame her eye as she leaned over the table. The silken hair parted on the side of her head ever so slightly, revealing a delicate ear.

"The last time we were together, I nibbled on that ear . . ."

He walked into a wall.

"Stupid. Gotta concentrate."

But Raven kept coming back to his mind. She normally levitated down from the T-Ship cockpit, but the Tamaranians had provided a gangway, and she'd gracefully stepped down it. She'd stood there at the bottom, her hand on the rail, and turned to look back up at him. Her large amethyst eyes seemed to hold a question for a moment, but then Nightwing had called to them, and she turned and walked out the door without speaking.

He bumped into a heavily armed Tamaranian woman, causing her to drop a box of what looked like grenades.

"Sorry," he said.

She gave him a dirty look as the two of them refilled the box and he loped off, trying to make up for the lost time.

When he reached the courtyard, he turned into a falcon and streaked skyward.

"We never flew together. Not in all those year together. I mean, sure, we flew together, but it was on missions. I just never thought of it," he thought. "I mean, with other girls . . . they've never flown. Well, outside of an airplane, anyway. Asking her to fly with me just seemed silly."

When Starfire flew, she was like a missile. Arms stretched out in front of her, she tore through the air with force and with power. Raven, though, flew by an exercise of pure will. Tightly controlled, arms at her sides or within her cloak, Raven often lead with her head, or one shoulder. Her hair stayed out of her face because of her hood . . .

"Hey," he thought, "how does she keep her hood up at seventy miles an hour?"

He overshot the campus where the emergency comm center was set up.

"Aaarrgggh," he sputtered, performing a wingover, turning and spiraling down to the campus.

"Besides," he continued, "Our flight modes are completely different. She flies by will. I have to pay attention to aeronautics."

He flared his wings and transformed on the doorstep. Walking swiftly, he entered Comm Central. At first glance, everything seemed normal. Then he looked closer. There were no familiar faces there. True, at each console was a Tamaranian warrior working busily away. But they were all geezers over fifty! Previously his entire staff had consisted of the youngest and most inexperienced members of the College staff that the Dean could get away with sending him. At the center of the room was a tall Tamaranian talking earnestly with a young subaltern. Changeling walked over to him quickly.

"What's going on here?"

The older man turned. He was about six-foot-four. Beneath the conical helmet he wore was a long, flowing mane of grey hair, shot through with remainders of gold. His matching beard covered his neck and the top of his chest. His right eye was gone, a simple black leather patch covering the empty socket. His features were strong. Twenty pounds lighter, he would have looked "chiseled." As it was, he looked slightly like Santa Claus ready to get medieval on the Naughty list. But there was nothing jolly about the expression on his face. He wore a _very _old style of maille shirt the neck and cuffs finished with leather. A wide belt of the same material pulled the shirt into his kidneys and floating ribs. The butt of a power-lance rested on the floor, leaning in the crook of his elbow. On one hip he wore a sword with a simple cruciform hilt. On the other was a very modern pistol. He squinted down at the data-slab with his remaining eye.

"Bring two more generators in here, then set the rest up at the emergency fall-back location. Go ahead and set up the portable transceiver rigs on the sports field. It's a risk, but I'd rather have the backups ready to go online immediately. They're sure to hit us here sooner or later."

Then he turned to face Changeling. His eyebrows went up.

"Captain," he said, "What are you doing here?"

"Dean Arfast? I was going to ask you the same thing! Who are all these people and where is my team?"

The old man looked around the room and slowly smiled.

"They're doing their jobs. The undergraduates have taken up arms and have joined the troops on the south wall of the city. The graduate assistants have taken the field as support for the 3rd Armored Cavalry, and the adjuncts," he said with great pride, "Managed to up-ship with _Nightwing._ They will fly with the Grand Armada and be in the forefront of any boarding parties."

"Then who are all these people?"

"The senior staff. Assistant professors, full professors, department heads . . . we're all here. We've relieved your team. We're too old and busted to fight well – but we can do this job and let the young and able-bodied take the field."

"You've done nothing but under-mine me since I took up this project, why be helpful now."

"Son, that was politics. This is survival. Or at least a worthy death."

Changeling looked around the room again. The old men and women in the room each wore unique armor. Most had "authentic battle damage" that had been repaired. The weapons close to hand were also a hodge-podge of technology and styles that had clearly changed over the years.

"Captain," said Dean Arfast respectfully, "As they say on your planet, 'we got this.' You're able bodied, young, and powerful. You should be in the field."

Then his eye got a glint of passion and his smile became unpleasant.

"I swear to you, by X'hal's golden tits, comms will stay on-line, and if the lizards get this far, they'll bleed for it."

"Besides – shouldn't a man your age be beside his battle-mate?"

The younger man paused. "I – I don't have one."

The old man looked down at him. "You sure about that?"

The wall screens in the situation room were filled with tactical data busily scrolling by. Nightwing, Blackfire, and Starfire desperately tried to absorb in information and formulate a plan.

"Is there anything we can do about the cities other than evacuate the population?"

"The urban defensive screens," Starfire replied, "will keep the invaders out initially."

"The problem," added Blackfire, "is that they cannot withstand a heavy orbital bombardment or those huge particle weapons the Gordanians mount. If they are overwhelmed the cities beneath them will be destroyed."

"Fortunately," added Nightwing, his mind still on the scrolling data, "they're here for slaves and plunder. Pulverized cities provide neither."

"I wouldn't put it past them to overload those screens out of sheer spite," said Blackfire. "And I know from spite."

"Here," said Nightwing, pointing. "I don't understand this. See the formation of the incoming ships? And the trajectory. It doesn't make sense if they're invading the planet. They should have spread out before now. Look at the size of those troop carriers! There's clearly enough to try to take the planet. Why haven't they spread out?"

Cyborg looked at the data more closely.

"I think," He said, "that they're coming here. It looks like they're going to touch down about two hundred miles outside the city."

"Two hundred miles . . ." Starfire said, frowning.

"Garvek's Path," said Blackfire.

"Garvek . . ." Cyborg said quizzically.

"It is – from our equivalent of your medieval times. King Garvek, in his day, wished to be able to evacuate the city under seige and dug tunnels to connect a series of caverns. It provides what amounts to an underground road beneath the city."

"It's closed now, right? Or at least guarded?" asked Raven.

"It is the – educational park for children," Starfire said.

"Yeah, well, it's also garrisoned. I put a thousand men at the end of it. Not nearly enough to head off _that,"_ Blackfire said. "I never thought they would get this close. I should have blown it shut."

"Can we do that now?" asked Nightwing.

"Maybe," said Cyborg. "Probably not enough time. No way are a thousand men going to hold that long enough to blow the passage closed."

"Very well," said Starfire. "The ad hoc fleet will do their best to slow them down. The Home Fleet is on its way at best speed. Let us go. We shall take the Palace Guard and meet this threat."

No one spoke. There was finality in her voice. They'd lived here for weeks. The Palace Guard was a few thousand men. Against what was coming, they had little chance.

"Friends. You have come a long way with me, and been a great help, but you are not of Tamaran, and I cannot ask you to . . ." she began.

"Starfire," broke in Nightwing, "Shut up and lead."

Raven added, "We're wasting precious time."

Starfire looked down at the table for a moment, then back up, almost shyly. "Very well . . . friends. Let us go see to the kicking of the butt."

Changeling had taken some time to inspect Dean Arfast's preparations, but in the end, he could find no fault with them. The senior academics of Tam-Tech were capable of both running the comm center and of defending it without his supervision.

"So now what," he asked the older man.

Arfast raised his eyebrows. "Battle's coming. You're a Captain. Where do you _feel_ you need to be?"

A memory flashed into the forefront of the Changeling's mind. It was an old picture, from a long time ago, now. He'd been distracted by the women's scents and had cut across Raven's scent trail one morning just before dawn. Absently, he'd followed her scent to the roof of Titan Tower, where he'd found her, deep in a meditative trance. She'd floated there, three feet above the gravel roof, gracefully drifting on the winds of her mind. Still in the shadow of the earth, Raven was a mere silhouette against the purple skies of the fading night behind her to the west. The sun had crested the hills of the Badlands to the east and the shadow of the terminator slid down her face, illuminating it with the golden light of dawn. The darkness of the night drained away from her silken hair, the beautiful, utterly unique lavender color showing almost silver highlights as it drifted about her head. Just below her widow's peak, the ruby she always wore on her sixth chakra flared for an instant, glittering in the dawn. Like a black silk drape, the night fell away from her slender body, revealed as her cloak drifted softly in the wind. He'd swallowed. Her large eyes closed, her face in repose, Raven was as relaxed as he'd ever seen her. For all the darkness she'd seen, for all that she'd done, there was still an innocence about her when she was like this. And we she wasn't glaring, snarking, or throwing around huge amount of dark energy he could remember something else. She was very, very small. Standing, she could almost fit under one of his arms, stretched out. Yeah. Sure. She was a together, independent woman of the 21st century with enough you-go-girl to rip apart jumbo-sized spaceships. That didn't seem to matter.

Garfield didn't have to think. "Raven," he muttered.

"I thought so. You've got some place to be," said the older man, but he was talking to Garfield's back as he turned on his heel and trotted toward the door.

Once through it, he turned into a sure-footed goat, and galloped down the hall. By the time he reached the second turn, he was a loping wolf, and by the time he reached the outer doors, a sprinting cheetah, bouncing from wall to wall at about forty miles and hour. On the front steps the cheetah flickered and became a falcon that streaked skyward.

The Palace was emptying out fast. It was like the Siege of Paris or the Evacuation of Dunkirk during World War II. All available transportation was commandeered, and all personnel capable of fighting were hustled aboard, armed to the teeth. People were nervous. You could practically feel the tension in the air, but the Palace Guard, combined with the ad hoc militia got to the head of Garvek's Path before the invasion fleet could touch down. The terrain was rugged, and the Gordanians were forced to land some distance away.

"Galfore," said Starfire quietly, "I'm sorry, but I have a final job for you."

"Anything, your highness," replied the big man.

"Take the scout cycle there and return to the city via Garvek's Path. Go to the crèche."

He paused. "I . . . see. And my orders?"

Starfire closed her eyes and bit her lip.

"Do not let them be taken."

He sighed. "Yes, highness."

Blackfire watched as the knorfka rode the cycle into the darkness.

"Huh," she said, pensively. "I didn't think Mommy and Daddy's little darling had it in her."

"What?" asked Nightwing.

"Giving that particular order. She must _really_ have hated the 'employment opportunity' I found for her back in the day."

The dark woman smirked.

"What order did she give? And what's a 'crèche' in this context?"

Blackfire smirked again, then busied herself examining a squad-class plasma cannon.

"It's where we store our children when we're not using them. Sort of a big daycare, or boarding school. All the children not old enough to fight are there, under the care of a reduced crew of knorfka's."

"If we fail to hold here, she's ordered him to kill them."

"What!"

"It's that or slavery," she shrugged.

He spun on his heel and started toward Starfire where she stood next to the tunnel wall, her head bowed, leaning on her hand, eyes squeezed shut.

A large metal hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"No, man. Don't."

He looked up into Cyborg's face. The big man looked like he was in pain, but said, "You can't change her mind, and even if you could, we don't have time to call him back. Look at her."

Starfire's face was drawn and pinched. Her hands shook and two tears tracked down her face. Hearing footsteps approaching her, she quickly wiped her eyes and smiled, looking up at the approaching messenger.

"That wasn't easy for her," said the black man. "And I don't know that she's wrong."

"How can she possibly . . . "

"Nightwing. My family knows a little bit about slavery. Some people may think, 'where there's life, there's hope.' But for others, it's better to die free, than live in chains."

Nightwing looked into the big man's miss-matched eyes for a long moment.

"Then," said Nightwing, "We better hold this line. Failure is not an option."

"No," replied Cyborg, "It's not."

Changeling circled the Palace. Something was wrong. The guards were all gone and there was no sign of the staff necessary just to keep the huge building functioning. Then he spotted a very young Tamaranian guardsman crossing a courtyard. Man, boy, really, was wearing armor slightly too big for him and carrying a power lance with great pride. The green falcon clawed the air with its wings as it dropped, possibly setting air-speed records for the species. He flared his wings and transformed, hitting the ground with a smack.

"What's going on?" asked Changeling. "Where is everybody?"

"jIH ta'laHbe' mu' SoH 'oH ja'ta'!"[ii]

"Oh for . . ." Changeling muttered.

Then he grabbed the young man by the back of the head and kissed him full on the mouth.

"I can never remember," he thought, "If I'm supposed to use tongue or not to make this work."

The young subaltern's eye went wide and he stepped back. Both men sputtered and spat.

"Dude," said the guard "Was that _really_ necessary?"

"Sorry," changeling replied. "I'm in a big hurry. Where is everybody?"

The boy gave him a quick summary.

"Oh, God, I've gotta get there _fast._"

"Sorry Dude, all, and I mean _all_ of the transportation has been commandeered. There's not so much as a tricycle left in the city."

"Gaaaaahh!" said Changeling in frustration. He checked the parking lot. The garage. The little bay where the couriers left their cycles. There was _nothing._ Then he stopped.

"Armorer," he hissed. "The prototypes."

He raced to Armorer's workshop. The door burst open as Changeling raced inside only to screech to a top and gape at the empty room. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous space as he looked around, shocked and disappointed.

"You," said a voice from behind, "are late."

Armorer was wearing a full suit of Tamaranian plate armor from the last century. He stood upright, a very early model power lance casually propped over one elbow. His voice was oddly muffled inside the helmet.

"Where . . . where . . .?"

"Everything that could run or be made to run has gone to the Front. Spot-welded, braised, and taped – that stuff will probably kill half of the youngsters trying to operate it."

"And you?"

"Too slow. Too weak. Too damn old. I'd be a hazard to anyone near me at the Front. So I came here. The shop is home. If they come, it's as good a place to die as any."

"Listen, you've got to help me. I've got get out there. They're going to hit any minute."

"There's nothing left here that works or can be made to work. It's all just junk. I'm sorry."

Changeling's eyes roved over the empty space again. There was the T-Ship. Cyborg had brought it down here to work on it after their arrival. He'd said that the fusion thrusters had been over-loaded by the Xethonium power core, and would need to be re-worked for it to fly again. It was in pieces was obviously not going to be flying anywhere any time soon.

"Wait," thought Changeling. "The power core."

Slowly his head turned as he regarded the shrouded shape of the mech that Armorer said didn't work. He strode over to the back corner to the giant mech Armorer had built for Starfire.

"What did you say was wrong with this again?"

"The atomic batteries are too dense to take a charge from any of our conventional power feeds. We can't get it to power up."

Changeling jerked the dust cover off of it. It was impressive. Almost fifty feet tall, the head almost brushed the ceiling of the garage. The large, round feet and powerful leg were attached to hip joints that flared out just below the waist. Changeling swallowed.

"Did . . . did you have to make the boobs so big?"

The old man laughed. "The Grand Ruler is a lady. She needs to make a statement. Besides, I had to have some place to put the cobalt fusion charges. They're not armed though. The detonators are supposed to be installed right before heading to battle. I don't have any here."

And make a statement it did. Starfire's favorite colors of pink and lavender were well-represented in the vehicle's paint job, and the hips nipped in sharply to a narrow waist. The chest area was, well, heroic, tapering back to slightly narrower shoulders. The whole thing was surmounted by an oversized coronet marking the mech as the Grand Ruler of unified Tamaran. Changeling shook his head to clear it, then trotted over to the T-Ship.

He flashed into the shape of a Sasquatch and punched open the secure panel over the engine core. Shifting back to his human form, he looked inside. There was an inner door. With his picture on it, with a red circle with a line thought it painted on the door.

"Very funny, Cyborg," he muttered as he popped the catches on the inner door.

Inside, securely locked in its socket was the square Xethonium power core. He licked his lips. This was extordinarily dangerous. He barely had any idea what he was doing, and no idea at all how. Instinct was rarely something to be relied on when dealing with technology. He closed his eyes. Behind the lids he saw the image of Raven's face, framed by the shining silver starlight of Nevermore. Taking a deep breath he broke into Cy's toolbox, and took the four tools he knew how to use. He released the catches holding the power core into its socket and carefully pulled it free.

"Open the power core maintenance hatch on the mech," he told Armorer.

The door popped open and Changeling looked into the chamber. He almost wept. It was almost the right size, but it was round. The T-Ship power core was square. Square peg. Round hole. He carefully put the core into the chamber, next to the socket. Then he broke out tool Number One. There was a tearing sound.

"What's that," asked Armorer.

"That," said Changeling, "Is the sound of a sacred sacrament of the Engineers of my world."

He slapped the length of sticky, silver tape across the power core, taping it to the chamber wall.

"Sacrament?"

"Yep. If it doesn't move, and should, WD-40," he said, pointing to the can on the floor. "If it moves and shouldn't, duck tape. So named because water streams off of it like water off of a duck's back."

Again and again he ripped strips of duck tape from the roll, practically mummifying the core in tape, attaching it to the walls of the chamber.

"Oh God," he prayed, "I'm no good at this stuff. I swear to you, if this works, I will read the books. I will do the homework. I will learn this stuff. Please, oh please . . . let this work."

Then, he took his third tool and connected the leads on the core to the leads in the socket.

"How do I get into the cockpit?" he asked the old man, who'd watched the "sacrament of the duck tape" with great interest.

"Oh, there's no cockpit. It's not a vehicle, young man. It's a _suit of armor._ You _wear_ it. Here."

He ushered Changeling to a small maintenance elevator mounted on the wall behind the mech. Sure enough, there was a hatch in the back, between the "shoulder blades" of the mech.

"Hop in," he said.

Changeling jumped off of the small elevator and into the back of the huge machine. That's when he learned that Starfire had longer legs than he did. His legs slid easily into the leg sockets of the interior of the machine, but didn't reach the bottom. He gave a sharp bark of pain. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.

"You okay, boy?"

"Starfire . . .the Princess Koriand'r, has longer legs than I do, doesn't she?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Whups," said the old man, "I guess so. Wait a second. I'll get you some lifts."

He turned away and returned in a moment.

"Here, put these under your feet."

The heavy rubber pads under his feet padded out the bottom of the legs of mechanism and allowed him to stand comfortably inside. Armorer had to force the hatch closed behind him.

"Aw man," thought Garfield, "This thing fits all wrong. Too much room in the ass and hips, WAY too much room in the front of the chest area, but the rest of it is rubbing against my ribs, and the waist is way too tight. I knew boys were shaped different from girls, but this is ridiculous."

He looked out the viewplate. The old man was standing at the bottom of his field of vision. Garfield nodded at him and said, "Ok. Light me."

Armorer nodded back and went to the base of the mech, reached into the and threw the breaker.

* * *

[i] A "foxtrot" is a type of formal dance. Military jargon for an operation turned into total chaos by circumstances is a "cluster-fuck." The radio signal for the letter C is "Charlie" and the one for F is "Foxtrot." Thus: Charlie is dancing the Foxtrot.

[ii] Yes –I used Klingon again, because there's just not enough Tamaranian on the internet for me to do what I want. The boy said, "Sorry out-worlder, but I don't understand a single word you are saying." Paraphrased.


	58. Battlemech

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs –

Yodaheisnot: Not avoiding it. Just saving the best for last.

Arashikage: Good to hear from you. Things should start looking up in this chapter.

JohnXGambit: Nothing a couple of atomic bombs won't fix.

Guest: Yeah. I had some big set pieces I want to get into place and I suddenly realized that in both the Comics and in the TV show, there are often giant holes of, well, stupid decisions that nobody even points out. So I decided to just run with it and stop turning backflips to get some stuff to make sense.

IanZakk – No worries. Hope to hear more from you.

Shadico – There's more from the mech in this chapter. It develops a personality.

Omeganian – I can't say that I have.

Randamwriter – I'm writing her as 36" – 24" – 34", but Changeling doesn't help. If you're still seeing the cartoon character in your head, I've done a bad job. He's in his early 20's and filled out now. Think Bruce Lee in _Enter the Dragon_ or this pic: upload . g. Much thicker around the waist than Starfire. And just differently proportioned. Trust me: I've worn armor many times, and if it doesn't fit right, it will chafe the hide right off of you.

The Fat Lantern – Actually, Armorer was initially inspired by Man At Arms from _He-Man._ I only actually saw one episode, but Man-at-Arms stuck with me. Of course Armorer is _much_ older. I think that he may also owe his roots to Desmond Lewellyn's "Q" from the James Bond movies of my youth.

Bxbsnsjdjfkxncl – Really. You don't have to type that name very often, do you. Anyway, I'm glad you like it.

Krostovikraven1 – Yep. Armor that's, oh, say, 50 feet tall. And while it _could_ carry artillery, there's a problem . . .

00cLosetFreak00 – Yeah, that's my opinion, too.

Chobo – Maybe in the next chapter. I actually already have part of that conversation in my head. "So, greenbean, how did you connect the Xenthonium core to the leads in the T-300?"

Egg1 – There will be more talking.

God-of-goats-loves-books – I'm glad to hear from you. I swear to God, I'm closing in on the end of this thing. I'm sorry it's going so long between updates, but it's just no coming as fast as it used to.

Writewords – Glad you like it.

Guest – Oh, yeah. Star's having a Bad Day. And yeah – Redeeming blackfire is a challenge. I have a few ideas.

DarkSageofKanoha – Glad to hear from you.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, this one kinda got away from me, weighing in at almost 11 thousand works and taking almost two weeks to get out the door. Sorry. I hope it turns out to be worth the wait. I had a lot of fun painting the word pictures in here, but I realized that I've started to repeat myself. There's a race against time almost identical to the one in Cold Rain, and a fight against impossible odds from "Walking Dead," and even the return of the Beast, from "Hacking and the Voyage Home." So if I'm beginning to repeat myself, it's definitely time to start winding this story up. There are different twists on the tropes, so I don't think you guys will be bored, and I got my characters where I wanted them. I think that entertainment will ensue. Looking down the road, we have one more relationship to patch and, of course, we're going to have to settle the political situation in the Vega sector. Then it will be back to earth for a shock for Nightwing. Along the way there will be a revealing meeting of the team. Then, at least one proposal and a wedding.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

Earlier . . .

Raven turned her head and watched as he walked out of Starfire's situation room, her head turning as her eyes followed him to the door. He made eye contact for an instant, then turned and walked away. She licked her lips.

"This one is going to be bad," she thought. "Real bad."

And he wasn't going to be there. It had taken her a long time to figure it out, and since then, she hadn't had the guts to tell him. The breakthrough had been at the shrink session. They'd talked about daddy issues (those were huge), authority issues, body issues, and guilt. She'd been raging, as the Doc had just dragged her to the realization that she resented the fact that no one wanted to take care of her.

"I don't _need_ anyone to take care of me! I'm an adult. I'm a super-hero! I'm _Raven!_ I can get by by myself!"

Doc looked at her over his glasses. "The thing is, Raven, you've grown up. Isn't it time to do more than just 'get by'?"

That had brought her up short. And after a _lot_ of introspection, Raven had come to a couple of conclusions. She didn't need anyone to take care of her. Most of the time. And she didn't _want_ anyone to take care of her. Most of the time. But there was nothing wrong with someone to wanting to take care of her.

And _that _she wanted _bad._

Nightwing's voice droned in the background as he and Blackfire went over the planned defense of the tunnel. Raven couldn't focus.

"If course, if I want someone to want me, why do I act the way that I do?"

More digging in her psyche. This one should have been easy.

"Apparently," she thought. "I hate myself."

Being told, daily, in her most vulnerable and formative years that she was evil, destined to do awful things had had the side-effect of convincing her that she could never be loved. It was safer to push people away before they could turn away on their own. It had taken years with the Titans to force her to accept that they simply weren't going to turn away from her. They'd seen everything. Well, almost everything. She still had one secret left. Even Garfield hadn't seen it.

And even scarier than "people" were "boy-people." Letting someone touch her that deeply, see that far inside of her soul had taken years and years of effort.

And then he had casually blown her off for a roll in the hay with her best friend.

But that hadn't been how it had happened. Her confrontation with Starfire had been a real eye-opener. She'd thought he hadn't loved her – that he didn't want to be with her any more. Raven was keenly aware of the disadvantages she held in the romance department. Colored like a battleship, bizarre hair color, and prickly personality, she assessed the pool of men who would be attracted to her to be quiet mall. Starfire, on the other hand had men following her around without trying, or noticing. That Starfire, who could have any man she wanted, had just casually stolen him just because she could was more than she could bear. But Starfire hadn't intended to steal him. He hadn't wanted to be stolen. They'd made the best decision they could at the time. Maybe it was a bad decision.

"But hey," she thought, "I don't exactly have the best track record for making perfect decisions under stress. I should have talked to him before now. Now it's too late."

Her reverie was broken by Nightwing's call. "Titans! GO!"

As Armorer threw the breaker connecting the Xenthonium core to the battery bank aboard the mech, Changeling felt the giant machine begin to vibrate. The face plate in front of him lit up with a head's up display showing two virtual gauges. On the left was what appeared to be a stack of batteries colored read, except for the bottom one, which was yellow. As he watched, it turned green and the one above it turned yellow. On the right was a series of spinning wheels labeled "Gyroscopic Stability Turbines." As he watched they all faded from a brilliant scarlet to yellow.

"Well," he grinned, "At least it didn't explode!"

He attempted to raise his arm and signal Armorer with a thumbs up, but couldn't move his arms. The batteries continued to turn yellow and then green, while the turbines faded to a darker yellow. He looked below, where Armorer had driven a small tanker truck the size of an over-sized golf cart and connected a hose to one leg of the mech, and then rode the elevator up to the head and popped an electronic panel. Sparks flew and the team's voices began to sound inside the helmet.

"Son, you're insane," said Armorer. "I like you. Okay – here's what I can tell you. The long range comm gear hasn't been installed. All you've got is short range. I've tweaked it a little. You can probably hear the long rang transmissions on the command channel, but you're not going to be able to talk to anyone more than a hundred meters or so away. Understand?"

"Got it. What else?"

"I'm filling the jump juice tank."

"Jump juice?"

"This thing is way too heavy to fly, but when you jump, it's got jets that will extend the height and distance of the jumps."

"Right."

"Now let me get you some ammo. I think we have some left. They didn't take everything."

The old man tottered off.

Cyborg's voice spoke, "Okay people, stay frosty. Here they come!"

Changeling heard the sound of an explosion over the speakers in his helmet.

"Raven!" shouted Robin, "Incoming fire from those fighters! Take them out!"

Garfield stared at the gauges in front of them as the huge machine continued to vibrate in a higher and higher pitch.

"C'mon, c'mon!" he muttered.

Without warning, the gauges changed. The battery bank vanished, leaving a simple graph labeled: Atomic Batteries: Power. The other simply said Turbines: Speed.

But what come next was utterly unexpected.

The vibrations leveled off and a booming basso profundo voice rang from the speakers. "I, LIVE!"

And the head's up display shifted.

"Touch tongue here for manual interface, or touch her for audio input/output."

"Touch tongue? Oh, wait," he remembered. "Tamaranians have prehensile tongues. Aw man. You have to lick the screen to drive this thing? Ew!"

He stretched his tongue out, straining to hit the audio input button, then stopped.

"Duh," he said, turned into an ant-eater, licked the "Audio Input/output" box, and then flashed back to his humanoid form before he could fall down into one of the legs of the armor.

"Greetings, Grand Ruler! I am the Cyborg-dyne Systems T-300 Prototype Battle-Mech (Mark I – Beta). Do you wish to run the tutorial?"

"Um, I'm not really the Grand Ruler. I'm just a friend. Oh, and, um, Captain of Comms."

There was a long pause, and the voice spoke again.

"Understood, Grand Ruler. Do you wish to run the tutorial?"

"No time. We need to move out immediately."

"Yes, Grand Ruler. Mission?"

"Ummm," he thought of Raven and of Tamaran and the two concepts kind of collided in his brain.

"Save the cheerleader, save the world?" he muttered.

"Mission goals noted, Grand Ruler."

Two lines of text appeared in the upper left-hand corner of the screen.

"Objective #1: Save Cheerleader. Success: xx"

"Objective #2: Save world. Success: yy"

"Mission parameters?" said the machine.

"Wait, I was just being sarcastic!"

"'The Grand Ruler is Sarcastic' has been added to my database. Mission parameters?"

"Okay, fine. Look, the Gordanians have invaded the planet."

As he briefly explained the situation they heard Cyborg's voice again.

"Get those plasma cannons up to Raven and Robin's forward position now! Now! Now! The bad guys just rolled in an entire _brigade!_"

"And I need to get there _now!"_

"Understood, Grand Ruler. How many Gordanians are involved?"

"Um, all of them, I think."

The mission objectives updated.

"Objective #1: Save Cheerleader. Success: 02%"

"Objective #2: Save world. Success: 05%"

"Those are my odds?"

"I am coming out of storage mode. Here is the stores list."

A list of ammunition and resources appeared on the screen. There was a huge variety of weapons listed. Almost of them read "Ammunition: 0."

Of the selections, only "Surface to Air Missles: 25," "Riot Control Gel: 10%," and "Flame Unit: 10%" indicated there were any resources. That and "Jump Juice: 25%."

"It is highly recommended," said the machine, "the stores list be filled before the engaging in the mission."

Nightwing's voice came to them then. "I don't give a crap _who_ the Grand Ruler told you you were supposed to guarding. _I'm _here now, and you're going to work yourselves up some Joy of Flight and you are going to get your happy asses in the air and give her some support, or I swear by Jehovah, Trigon, and X'hal, I'll kill you myself!"

Changeling looked past the head-up display at the tottering frame of Armorer as he slowly struggled to shift a heavy crate of armor-piercing sabot rounds.

"Sorry T, no can do. We have to move out _now. _It's going to have to be hand to hand. How do I drive this thing?"

"I am intuitively activated. You take a step, I take a step. You raise your arm, I raise my arm. You smite the enemy, I smite the enemy."

Experimentally, changeling raised an arm. Without effort, the gigantic mech arm with its four opposing claws rose in front of his face.

"Huh," he said, "I wonder if . . . ."

He popped his claws, and the claws on the mech responded by extending to double their already dangerous length.

"Cool," he muttered, retracting his claws.

From the front came Nightwing's voice again, "Raven! Raven! You're over-exposed! Come back here!"

"That's it, T, we're moving out."

He took a step forward. Without effort, the giant mech raised its heavy foot and then dropped it down onto the metal floor of the garage.

"Doom!"

"Open the door Armorer, I've gotta run!"

"Doom! Doom! Doom!" Changeling's heavy footsteps echoed in the near-empty building.

The mech moved out at a slow walk, tearing free of the jump juice pump and spraying fuel on the floor of the cavernous room. A red light blinked on the head-up display as the machine's damage-control system moved to seal the fuel leak.

Armorer's head whipped around as the sound of the mech moving out echoed around the room. He stopped struggling with the ammunition crate and hurried to the door controls. Slowly the exterior door began to roll back. The huge strides of the mech brought Changeling to the door before it was open wide enough to admit the mech. Impatiently he reached out to push the doors open. They crumpled in his hands and without straining he shoved them out of the way, his head deforming the door lintel as he failed to duck low enough to exit safely.

Once outside the palace he looked around.

"Oh great. How do I know which way to go?"

The head-display changed.

A wire frame map of his immediate surroundings appeared, with a blinking red dot in the upper right quadrant.

"That answers that," he said. And the Changeling moved out.

_I've got a dream 'bout an angel on the beach  
And the perfect waves are starting to come  
Her hair is flying out in ribbons of night  
And her touch has got the power to stun._

The battle was not going well for Tamaran. Without air support, the Tamaranian ground troops were being pulverized. Without warning, Starfire had leaped into the air to provide counter fire. A few moments later the two wings of the Palace Guard she had assigned to guard Nightwing joined her. The terrain favored the defenders, but the sheer number of the Gordanian invaders was pushing them back.

Changeling moved at a fast jog, the enormous legs of the mech providing a ground-eating pace. He moved out of the city very quickly. Once out in the countryside he began to run up and down the hills. He approached a valley. The mech's legs were not nearly long enough to step over it, and it look like too much of a leap for the heavy machine to make. "Dammit, I don't want to stop and climb down and back up. I need to be there _now!"_

"Grand Ruler," responded the AI, "Just jump. Take a running broad jump."

Never one to hesitate when he was in a hurry, Changeling jogged up to the valley and jumped. Up, up, up he soared. When he reached the apex of his jump, jets fired from the bottom quadrant of the mech's back. He landed effortlessly on the far side of the valley and loped off. As he jogged faster, he noticed the legs of the armor pressing against his thighs. He was unable to run any faster.

_I've got a dream 'bout an angel in the forest  
Enchanted by the edge of a lake.  
Her body's flowing in with jewels if light  
And the earth below her's starting to shake_

The console in front of him indicated a change. Jump Juice: 15%

"Wow. I hope I don't have to do that too many more times."

He tried to launch into a full-on run, but the armor wouldn't respond. His legs smacked up against the armor as he lifted them, then they slammed into the boots as he slammed them down. Try as he might, he couldn't force the giant machine to run any faster.

_But I don't see any angels in the city  
I don't hear any holy choirs sing  
And if I can't get an angel  
I can still get a girl  
And a girl'd be the next best thing  
The next best thing to an angel  
A girl'd be the next best thing_

The comm system crackled again.

Starfire's voice spoke. "They are too many. Fall back. Give the order for all personnel to fall back to the outer cavern. We will make our stand there."

"Computer! I need to _be there __now__! _Starfire's talking last stand time," said Changeling urgently and the landscape outside fled past at an astonishing rate.

"Further increase in velocity is prevented by the safety inter-locks. We are now at maximum safe velocity. Additional acceleration will result in mechanical or structural failure."

"Turn off the safety interlocks! If I'm not there before the battles over, there's no point in showing up at all!"

The machine replied, "Unable to comply."

Changeling racked his brain. "Um," he thought. "This always works on _Star Trek._"

"Computer," said Changeling, "Command priority over-ride. Disengage all safety interlocks and governor protocols. Set all mechanical systems to manual."

"Command authorization code required."

"Gah," shouted Changeling. "I am I the Grand Ruler? Or _NOT?"_

There was a beat. Then another.

"Disengaging safety interlocks. Mechanical systems now under manual control."

"Aw right," said Changeling, "Let's kick this pig!"

"Kicking the pig, Grand Ruler."

Suddenly the legs became responsive again and the Changeling stretched out his legs. It was a unique experience. Since he was a little boy, when he was in a hurry he had transformed into a cheetah or a falcon, or other swift creature. But none of those forms could operate the mech, which was much faster than any of them. Nor could his stronger primate forms: the gorilla and Sasquatch couldn't fit in the armor. The orangutan's and chimps legs were too short and their arms too long. Only a man could have done this job. And neither Nightwing nor Cyborg could have fit their waist into the armor. Of all the male titans, only he could have made this run.

The mission objectives updated.

"Objective #1: Save Cheerleader. Success: 17%"

"Objective #2: Save world. Success: 23%"

_I've got a dream 'bout a girl in a castle  
And she's dancing like a cat on the stairs  
She's got a demon's fire in her eyes  
And the thunder of a drum in her ears._

I've got a dream 'bout a girl on a star  
Lookin' down upon a world like a toy  
She's there all alone and dreamin' of someone like me  
I'm not an angel but at least I'm a boy!

Running in his human form wasn't normal for him, but he was a professional martial artist in the prime of his life, and no man, alive or dead, had ever had a stronger motivation.

"Doom-doom-doom-doomdoomdoomdoom," the all-terrain feet of the mech began to resemble a giant drumroll as it tore across the landscape.

Cyborg's voice sounded in his ears again, "Raven! Where's Raven?"

A red light came up on Changeling's head up display.

"What's that?"

The AI replied, "Hydraulic actuator lines have been compromised in my knee joints. I will cease to be able to move my joints in ten minutes. Right now there is sufficient fluid to function, but the reservoir is draining."

"Damn," replied Garfield. "How long 'till we make it to the battle field?"

"At this speed we will advent upon the battlefield in five minutes."

He began to pant. "*Gasp* Maintain course and speed."

Below, at the knee joints on the giant machine, a thin fluid began to run down the mechanical shins. Without fanfare, the volatile fluid ignited. With his very next step, Changeling's foot slammed down with another "doom!" When it rose, a small puddle of fire remained. As he crossed the mountains of Tamaran at speed, the Changeling left flaming footprints in his wake.

_I've got a dream when the darkness is over  
We'll be lyin' in the rays of the sun  
But it's only a dream and tonight is for real  
You'll never know what it means  
But you'll know how it feels  
It's gonna be over  
Before you know it's begun_

* * *

Raven was having a bad day. The problem was evident as soon as they engaged the enemy. One day historians would argue whether the Tamaranian Palace Guard had been outnumbered a mere twenty to one, fifty to one, or worse. But as soon she saw the shortfall, she took it upon herself to make up the difference. Way, way out in the field, alone, she tried to be an army. She couldn't be everywhere at once, but she could try damn hard. Dark energy tore apart tanks and heavy guns. Flechettes of it shredded flying vehicles. Vast waves of endless night scattered units and broke troop formations. But perhaps the most important thing she did was her shields. Everywhere in her line of sight shields of dark energy protected the Tamaranian warriors from the massed fire of the enemy.

Her jaw set like a space marine, sweat running down her face, Raven spun, flew, dodged and ran like a maniac. Levitating above the fray, she drew fire from hundreds of Gordanian ground troops. She dodged, spun, and pirouetted with an unholy grace. Like a dark angel of mercy, she healed the wounded where she could, in between shielding infantry, tearing apart armor, and being a living anti-aircraft gun.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. For every enemy formation she scattered, two opened fire. For every aircraft she pulled apart, two got through. Dealing with disaster after disaster, she got pulled farther and farther away from the rest of the team.

"Nightwing," called Cyborg, "Bring that thermal lance to bear! We've got incoming, behind us, from the West!"

"What is it?" asked Nightwing, as he turned the massive weapon around.

"I dunno what it is," replied the machine-man, "But it's hauling a hell of a lot of ass! It'll crest that ridge at any moment!"

There was a short lull as the two men waited. Then a sharp signal sounded from Cyborg's console.

"Hold fire! It's a friendly?"

"Friendly," asked Starfire, "What could it be? All of my assets are here."

"The IFF signal claims that it's the _Nightwing!" _he replied.[1]

"That is impossible," said Starfire. "_Nightwing_ is in high orbit, engaged with the Gordanian's capital ships."

"You're right," replied Cyborg. "The database was confused because _Nightwing's _your personal flagship. This thing is claiming to _you!"_

* * *

The best description of what happened next could be heard in the Gordanian's crèches, late at night, after all of the adults had left. The older children would terrify the younger ones with the tale.

". . . and then, just at the moment of Lord Targesh's greatest triumph, the monster came. It came from the sky, from the deepest darkest depths of space beyond the edge of the galaxy, crashing down among the troops in a ball of green fire! Tens of thousands died in the thermal bloom of its landing! It had an ugly, waspish waist like an insect, vicious claws, and two sharp horns on the top of its head. And it breathed fire at every turn!"

* * *

Changeling, of course, had a slightly different memory of the event.

"Okay T, we've got to clear those Tamaranian soldiers!"

"Understood Grand Ruler. I've got enough jump juice for one last jump with a smooth landing. Reminder: my primary actuators will fail in five minutes."

"Got it."

Changeling raced up the ridgeline, placed on foot at the edge of the foothills and jumped for all he was worth. The jump-jets kicked in and the mech soared over the mountain top that formed vaulted roof of the cavern, past the opening, over the Tamaranian troops, and splashed down in the middle of the Gordanian forward position. Those Gordanians unfortunate enough to be in the landing zone did not survive. Changeling landed with a final "DOOM," ending his jump in a three-point martial arts stance, a wave of green fire rolling out from his legs.

The mission objectives updated.

"Objective #1: Save Cheerleader. Success: 24%"

"Objective #2: Save world. Success: 37%"

"Starfire," he barked into his short-range radio. "Pull back ALL of your troops. I GOT this."

"For the next five minutes, at least," he thought.

Slowly the giant, large breasted mech rose from its kneeling position.

"T!" began Changeling, "Flame on!"

The Changeling extended his right hand and a torrent of white hot, sticky burning fuel sprayed out, incinerating rank up on rank of the invaders. He turned back and swept a second arc, cleansing the surface of Tamaran with purifying flame. Then the flame sputtered and went out.

"Already?"

"Regrets, Grand Ruler. I was provisioned for testing only. My builders did not anticipate actual combat at this time."

"Always! Anticipate! Combat! I know _damn well_ Cyborg saw _Wrath of Khan!"_

A flashing telltale on the heads up display noted an incoming flight of aircraft starting a strafing run. Changeling reared back and unloaded all twenty five of his smart missiles.

"Maybe," he thought, "they'll think I can do that again, and think twice about coming back around. In any case, that will give them a hobby. And now I'm already down to a quarter tank of anti-riot goo, two unarmed nukes, and hand-to-hand."

He popped his claws and pulled his lips back from his very, very white fangs, and his red, red gums. Thus began perhaps the most gruesome ballet in this history of Tamaran, a world noted for its rather . . . energetic entertainment. Imagine, if you will, a consummate gymnast and martial artist stomping geckos. For the individual Gordanian was too small for Changeling to engage standing upright. And so he reached, slapped, grabbed and swept, all the while searching for a tiny mostly-human in a dark blue cloak.

And he found her, not too far past the Tamaranian front line, trying to shield several squads from heavy fire. Changeling stomped the gun emplacements and look down at her.

She just stared. Her eyes were initially drawn to the flaming calves of the ultra-feminine suit of armor. She deliberately looked up the stylized calves and thighs, the broad hips and narrow waist, and enormous breasts. She shook her head at the gaudy paint job. Slowly she lifted her hitherto unused communicator.

"Where," she asked, "did you get that? You look like Optimus Prime's sleazy girlfriend. On fire."

"It chafes in places I won't discuss. Now will you please get out of here? This thing's got a limited dance card."

"Right," she said, replacing the comset at her belt. "You heard the, um, man," she shouted. "Move it!"

The smaller Tamaranian force was able to adroitly withdraw into the cavern at the head of the underground warren. But Garfield very quickly discovered Raven's problem. Big as he was, fast as he was, he simply could not be in more than one place at a time. Again and again, the enemy would surge around him to the left and to the right, and he would be forced back toward the Tamaranians to get ahead of the Gordanian troops. Finally, he stood inside the vast cavern that marked the beginning of Garvek's Path. Stomping, sweeping, and clawing, he simply could not stay ahead of the charging horde. Silently, without warning, a matte black shield popped up, blocking half of the entrance. He looked down. Raven's chest was heaving but her face was calm as she stood firm, anchoring the wide entrance to the cavern. Between them, they could hold this position long enough for the Tamaranians to get clear.

That was when the bunker-buster bomb hit the roof of the cavern.

With no air cover, one of the Gordanian fighter/bombers was able to line of a run and drop a massive bomb, designed for cutting deep underground and cracking open command centers. With a muffled "Whooom!" the giant explosive charge rocked the bones of the mountain. The ceiling began to shake and large chunks of gravel began to drop from the ceiling. Raven glanced up, then stared. Cracks began to form as the ceiling shook. Leaving her left hand in place to continue maintaining the shield, Raven lifted her right hand over her head and spread her fingers. A second shield snapped into place, holding up the mountain.

That's right: she held up the mountain.

Raven's eyes blazed white with eldritch fire. Tendons stood out in her neck and beads of sweat popped out on her forehead.

"Ahhhhh!" she cried.

"Raven!" shouted Changeling.

But Raven couldn't hear him. Her vision tunneled, then went black. All that was left in Raven's world was pressure. Pressure against the shield in front of her. Pressure against the shield overhead. Heavy weapons continued to hammer against the shield blocking the gateway and the weight of the mountain pressed down. A tiny line of blood began to leak from her right nostril. Raven's right knee began to buckle.

"If I hold out just a little longer," she thought, "hundreds more will escape. Just a little longer."

"Grand Ruler," said the suit AI, "You are reminded that I will be out of hydraulic fluid in approximately ninety seconds."

Garfield looked over at Raven, then the crowd in front of them. He blinked and shook his head.

"Okay, I've got an idea."

The Tamaranian formations behind him parted like water as he stepped back several giant paces. The flames around his legs began to gutter out as the system's hydraulic fluid reservoir ran dry. He lifted his hands up above his head and stretched his arms all the way out. He was barely able to reach the ceiling. Spreading his fingers all the way out, he popped his claws, nearly doubling the length of the suit's claws.

"T!" he shouted, "Deploy _all_ the non-lethal anti-riot stuff!"

"Deploying," answered the machine.

The entire chassis of the powered armor shuddered, and a vast sticky net and adhesive paste sprayed out from its palms. The ceiling of the cavern stabilized. Emboldened, the Gordanians began to rush forward around Raven's screen.

"Do something," said Changeling.

"I'm sorry, Grand Ruler. Until repairs can be affected, I cannot move. I have failed up."

Garfield banged his head against the interior of the armor.

"Show me your stores list again. There has to be _something _left."

The list of weapons, supplies, and equipment popped up on the head up display again. All read zero. All except the item on the very bottom.

"Cobalt Fusion Charges (disarmed): 2"

"That's right," thought Garfield. "My 'nuclear boobs.'"

He spoke, "What about these things?"

"I cannot launch the charges without hydraulic fluid. All my motive systems are seized up. Further, the priming charges are not in place. If I had primers, I could detonate them in place. That would wreak great havock up on the invaders _and_ seal the passage. But there are no priming charges."

The young man's mind raced.

"Okay," he thought. "_Star Trek_ worked before. Maybe it will work now. They're always 'reversing polarity' on the _Enterprise. _Maybe it will work here."

"T! I want you to set up a series of cycles in your main power feed, reversing the polarity to the Xenthonium power core. Can you, like, start a resonance thingy that will blow it up? Cyborg says it's stupidly unstable. It's why he and Nightwing don't want me anywhere near it."

There was a long pause. "Well done, Grand Ruler. I can indeed. On your command, I will start the process. You will have ten minutes to get to minimum safe distance."

"That's an option?"

"Grand Ruler, I am a suit of armor. My design purpose is to protect you. It would be poor protection indeed if I allowed my core to go critical with you aboard. I am starting the ejection protocol. The outer housing will blow. Then, 2/5 of a second later, the survival pod will blast clear."

Garfield keyed his transmitter one last time: "Starfire – get your people clear! I'm going to blow this cavern! The weather is going to get really rough in here in ten minutes!"

Without waiting for a response, Garfield ordered the mech: "Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

The mission objectives updated.

"Objective #1: Save Cheerleader. Success: 42%"

"Objective #2: Save world. Success: 78%"

"Grand Ruler, it has been an honour."

"T, the honor's been all mine."

"Ejecting!"

The outer shell of the upper half of the mech split away, momentarily exposing an escape pod. But 2/5 of a second is a laughably long time to a king cobra. When the explosive charges and jets fired to carry the ejection pod clear of the cavern over the heads of the staring Gordanians, an emerald green cobra had already leaped clear of the mech and begun to shape-shift. Before the smell of aviation fuel could permeate the air, the cobra had become a falcon, scooping the thin air of Tamaran in a power-dive to the ground, where a tiny figure still strained to hold up half of the mountain, and block the door. For Raven had heard nothing.

"Just a little bit longer," Raven thought, gasping.

* * *

Starfire had heard Garfield's warning, and at her command the remaining Tamaranians withdrew up the wide passageway. She stepped up to the forward position where Nightwing was manning the last pulse cannon.

"Friend Nightwing, we must now withdraw from this place.

Nightwing answered without looking up.

"I can't Starfire. Raven's holding that passage by herself. If I let up, she will be over-run. Lead your people out."

Starfire stood silently for a moment. "If you remain, you will be slain."

"I'm one person, Starfire. You represent millions. GO!"

Even in the roar of battle, there are occasional lulls. Sudden onset silence wherein small, innocuous sounds carry. There was a quiet metallic 'clink' that drew Nightwing's attention. He glanced to his right, and found that the Coronet of the Grand Ruler of Unified Tamaran had been placed on an ammo locker. Nightwing looked up, confused. Starfire stood before him, her mane of red hair tumbling in the wind, green eyes lock on his.

"Robin," said Starfire, "I left you once. I will not do so again."

Nightwing opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke over him.

"No. If you remain here, so will I, though all of Tamaran turn to ashes."

Nightwing paused. "Now? We're in the fight of our lives and you do this _now?_ Is this really the time?"

Starfire smiled gently. "It appears that this may be all the time we have remaining. So it must be now."

"Fine," he said at last. "We'll talk, but not now, and not here. Grab your hat, Grand Ruler, and let's go."

He jerked the heavy weapon from its mounting bracket and began to retreat backwards, spraying out a hail of fire as they retreated to the back of the cavern. As they left the cavern and entered the tunnel proper, they found Cyborg holding down the rear as the last of the Tamaranian regulars retreated down the tunnel.

"Where are Raven and Changeling?" he asked.

"They were behind us," said Starfire. "They were doing the holding of the gate. Changeling said he could seal the cavern."

"I think," put in Nightwing, "he has something in that suit he was wearing. He said something about 'minimum safe distance.'"

"Uh oh," said Cyborg. "He must have found a way to arm the cobalt fusion charges. We'd better move!"

"But what about Changeling and Raven?" asked Starfire.

"If he sets off those charges, we need to be twenty MILES from here. I'm guessing he has a plan."

"Wait," said Nightwing, "_Changeling_ has a plan?"

"Hey, he did pretty good in comms, didn't he? Let's get out of here."

* * *

The emerald falcon flared its wings and began to change. Changeling didn't have a "plan," per se, but a man with a million bird forms is gonna be a past-expert at "winging it."[2]

Raven couldn't see and couldn't hear. All she could do was hold up the mountain, hold the gate shield, and resist the pull of gravity through her feet. Then she felt it. It had been there at least once a week for the past seven years or so. Any anyone, anyone who'd felt it once would never forget it. There, beneath her feet, the ground trembled gently with the stride of an adult male tyrannosaurus rex.

* * *

Nevermore: Raven's mindscape.

Happy giggled, turning cartwheels in a circle around the rest of the avatars. Eros spoke first.

"Toldja he's be here."

"I knew he'd come," said Valor.

"Given his prior patterns, it was inescapable," said Knowledge.

"Give it a rest you idiots," said Wisdom. "We're holding up a mountain by ourselves, restraining half an army, shielding from heavy artillery, and I think there's an itch on the back of our calf. We need to _focus_ or it won't matter who's out there."

"Doesn't matter," said Sloth. "We're out of juice."

* * *

Her face gaunt, her eyes blurred, and her leotard soaked with sweat, Raven's shields dropped. The roof rumbled and some gravel shifted down, then it quieted. She dropped to her knees, exhausted. Blearily she opened her eyes to the sound of the saurian challenge roar she knew so well. Wiping the sweat from her eyes, she looked up.

The T-Rex was there again, turning to face the throng. Changeling strode forward, sure and certain. The mech had been cool. But this, this was who he was. Without hesitation he threw himself into the front lines of the Gordanian infantry, kicking, biting, and tail stomping. His huge hind legs enabled him to leap about the landscape. He flashed from one point in the line to another, sowing chaos and horror wherever his vast talons touched the ground. In the narrow expanse of the cavern, he was able to hold the line, but only barely. He glanced back. Raven had risen, but only to one knee. Propped up on one arm, she seemed to be trying to watch him, but unable to focus her eyes, or comprehend what was going on around her. He looked out as his opponents again. They weren't fleeing. None of them. And that wasn't right. Pack animals, even men, broke in the face of T-Rex attacks. They always did, unless something was driving them. He looked out over the crowd. There, about eighty yards outside the cavern stood a Gordanian in fancy golden armor. Head and shoulders above the guard around him, he

* * *

Lord Targesh. He is 42 years old. That's pretty old for a Gordanian warrior. Aggressive and strong, he's been a pack leader for quite some time. He loves to fight, to make war, and kills with great relish. He rarely thinks about anything other than his job, which is killing whatever he is told to. If he has any ambition, it's to kill more mammals and gather more females for his harem. In his spare time he likes to polish his collection of infant mammal skulls. If you could speak Gordanian, it would be a waste of time to ask him a question about anything other than food, killing or sex. He would not understand the question. Nice guy. And the alpha of this pack. And as likely as the Gordanian foot soldiers are to die facing Changeling claws, they continue to go forward. They advance because they are more afraid of Lord Targesh than they are of dying.

* * *

"I get it," thought Changeling, sweeping his vast tail again. "I'm not a real challenge like this. I'm just an animal. He'll keep throwing his troops at me until I'm exhausted and not think anything of it. He thinks he's alpha here. And so do they."

Garfield's eyes narrowed. He snorted a barrel of air through his nostrils.

He flickered into his human form, and pinned Raven's amethyst eyes with emeralds of his own. One heartbeat, then two he held her eyes, too far away to speak. Then he turned away one last time, to face the vast army on the arid waste that was Tamaran.

His pupils shrank to pinpoints and vanished. His ears stretched and flared out into batlike proportions. His jaw lengthened and became unbelievably heavy. His fangs merged, grew and stretched until they filled the maw his mouth had become. A huge hump of muscle sprouted between his shoulder blades as his spine lengthened and thickened. His arms shot out until they almost reached the ground. His claws grew and thickened. His chest expanded until it was four times the size of a normal man. Coarse fur sprouted all over his skin, covering him in a thick, shaggy coat. His brain also shifted, changing. The happy comedian, the gentle lover, every man's friend . . . was gone. The only thing left was The Beast.

The Beast sniffed the thin, polluted Tamaranian air. It reeked of lizard, and of fire. And no wonder. A vast pack of the half-hearts[3] barred the way out of this den that smelled of poison. He sniffed again. Mine was here, and at risk. He had been left a couple of imperatives by Garfield. And this one was right up his alley.

The Beast threw back his head and roared.[4] In the acoustics of the cavern his voice echoed and re-echoed, rolling out into the valley where Lord Targesh stood.

"Alpha," in this context, means "first," and "best" or "greatest." And there can only be one "best" or one "greatest." The Gordanian stood, dropped his goblet, and strode forward. The crowd of lesser lizards parted before both of the huge males. They met just outside the cavern mouth. Targesh hissed, his red eyes seeming to glow in the dim light. The Beast's lips pulled back from his fangs in a sort of smirking smile. He snorted. Targesh's eyes widened. He ground his teeth and leaped forward. The Beast leaped forward as well. The two huge males collided and, with the two-hundred pound weight advantage, the Beast knocked Targesh to the ground. But Targesh hadn't lived almost a century in the violent world of the Gordanian warriors and learned nothing. The Gordanian horde stopped to stare as he hit the ground he brought his hind feet up and kicked out at the Beasts stomach, tumbling backwards. He thrust his clawed feet out and the Beast soared through the air to slam down on his back. Both sprang back to their feet.

Back and forth they battled, quarter neither given nor asked. Claws opened rents in both scaled and furry flesh. Fangs glistened and blood flowed. Bestial snarls rose from the dust cloud as the two creature tried to kill one another. Targesh caught the beast around the midsection and began to squeeze. Tighter and tighter his arms drew as he tried to suffocate or crush his opponent. The Beast's chest began to heave as it got harder and harder to breathe. He brought his huge fists down on the back of Targesh's neck again and again, but the thick muscles protected his spine. Black spots began to appear before the Beasts eyes. Then he drew his lips back in a savage grin.

He pulled his elbow way, way back and worked his left hand in front of Targesh's face. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pressed his left thumb into Targesh's eye socket. The lizard-man resisted for just and instant, then howled in pain, rearing back. As his opponent started to jerk away, the Beast shoved _hard_, and he felt the eyeball pop, the vitreous humor wetting the fur on his hand.

The Beast chuffed and stepped back to breathe for just an instant while Targesh snarled and hissed, holding one hand to his eye. The Beast sprang forward, pressing his advantage. He grabbed Targesh around the waist and slammed him to the ground.

Raven's breathing had slowed down a little and she surveyed her surroundings.

"Well," she thought, "the roof hasn't collapsed on me. I haven't been killed or captured yet. That's the good news. The bad news is, I'm tapped. Maybe holding up a mountain was a little ambitious."

She wiped the blood from her nose and inspected her hand. "Nosebleed. That's new."

Her eyes returned to the roaring, snarling ball of fur and scales at the mouth of the cavern. Targesh had just managed an advantage, lifting the massive Beast overhead and body-slamming him to the ground. He threw himself on top of his fallen foe and began to choke him. The Beast snarled in defiance and smashed his opponent's arms away, rolling over and coming up behind him. Clinging to the reptile's back, the Beast sank his fangs into the back of his neck and bit down. Hard. His claws sank into Targesh's back and shoulders, locking him in place. His fangs pierced the lizard-man's hide and sang deeply into the muscles of his neck. Targesh screamed in pain. No mistaking that cry for anything else. The high pitched shriek echoed across the landscape as he threw himself about trying to get free of the Beast's hold.

The Beast closed his jaws inexorably. The sharp fangs pierced deeply into the powerful neck muscles, seeking the jugular vein that all creatures with a head _must_ have. He shook his head back and forth, worrying at the tough flesh and working his ivory fangs in deeper and deeper. His enormous jaw closed tighter. Targesh's flailing become more frenzied and his shrieks louder. Then there was a gush of blood as the carotid bodies were pierced.

If he reached a field hospital within the next three mintues, Targesh would live. As it was, he was going to bleed out in five.

The Beast bit down harder. His fangs met the bones of Targesh's neck. He twisted his own neck from side to side, the massive muscles torquing the smaller bones of Targesh's neck until, without the support of his now shredded neck muscles, they separated.

The Beast bit down one final time. The spinal cord parted and the gristle that had been Targesh's trachea also parted, and the Beast's fangs met.

Targesh slumped to the ground as his head rolled free in the dust.

His foot on the chest of his adversary, the Beast flung his blood-soaked head back, flinging gobbets of blood and tissue in a grisly arc. He howled loud and long. Up and down the valley it echoed.[5]

The front ranks of the army, all of them that could see the duel that had just been fought, turned and ran. Without Targesh to keep them in line, their morale shattered. Without their unbeatable and unbeaten leader, their cohesion collapsed. Fifty or so yards up the valley they ran into troops that didn't know, and there was a snarled mess while rumors flew and word of Lord Targesh's death was passed around.

The Beast snorted and began to groom himself. That was that. A simple problem. He would wait, and if the half-hearts managed to find another would-be Alpha, he would kill him too. This would go on until the half-hearts left his territory. In the meantime, he would wait. Perhaps woo Mine.

No. There was something more. An urgency. The Other had left him another imperative. It was important. The Beast strained to understand. He didn't get it exactly right, but he was sure he was close.

Wildfire! You didn't fight it. You couldn't intimidate it. You just ran. You ran as fast as you could and hoped to reach water. Easy enough. He would just take Mine and . . . no. The Beast strained for the concept again. He didn't smell any smoke. There was not the hot wind that fed the wildfire. But the Other had been _sure. _This wildfire was coming faster than even the Beast could run. It would incinerate him _and_ Mine, and that was not to be borne. He never even considered that the Other might lie to him. In point of fact, his brain didn't hold the concept of "lie."

There was no help for it. This time he wasn't even going to have time to catch Mine's scent. He was going to have to call the Other. This was the kind of problem the Other could handle. One thing he was sure of. The Other would have to move fast. Wildfire was coming. The Beast lay down on the ground, closed his eyes, and call The Other.

Changeling awoke to find himself covered with blood and looking at the completely chaotic Gordainan army. Raising himself up on one elbow and smiled, chest heaving. That had worked out rather better than he'd hoped. Surely the Tamaranians and Titans were clear. He gasped for air. His muscled cramped and ached. But there were worse ways to die. Then his stomach fell into his boots. Because he heard a very familiar voice from entirely too close behind him.

"Ok," said the gravely contralto from behind him, "I'm impressed. But they won't stay gone. Whoever that guy was, there are more of them, and close. They'll be headed back this way in minutes."

Garfield turned.

"Raven," he called, "Why are you still here? Strike that. You need to leave."

He panted a couple of times. "You need to leave _now._ Do your gate thingie."

"That's stupid," Raven thought. "Even if I have the power, we can't leave yet. The Tamaranians need time to close the passage and . . ."

She looked at him more closely. He didn't look like a man taking a breather. Or a man too exhausted to go on. The set of his shoulders, the placement of his legs, and the smug, self-satisfied grin: they were all the hallmarks of a man who has accomplished a total and complete victory. Raven's face went ashen and her pupils contracted. A bead of sweat formed on her temple and ran down her face.

"Garfield," she said sharply, "What did you _do?"_

He gave her that maddening toothy grin.

"I nuked 'em."

He nodded over where Starfire's battle armor quivered while holding up the ceiling.

"Any second now, that thing's going to go critical. This place is going to be nothing but a sheet of green, glowing glass. That's why you gotta get outta here."

Raven's head reared back. She blinked.

"Azar," she thought. "I've got nothing left. I couldn't open a gate if I tried. And he's too far away."

She kneeled there, paralyzed.

* * *

Nevermore: Raven's Mindscape.

"The man must continue," Said Knowledge.

"Please," replied Rude, "You sound like a bad _Star Trek_ parody."

"So you don't like my choice of words," replied the yellow-clad avatar. "It does not negate the conclusion. Do any of you disagree?"

Silence reigned. Then a few mutters.

"I didn't think so."

Raven's avatars stood at the foot of a tall, forbidding mountain, deep within Nevermore. Before them was an iron door with no keyhole. Across it were weathered boards fastened to the stone with deep spikes. On top of them were chains with heavy, old-school padlocks. Like the door, the padlocks also had no keyholes.

"We are all in accord, then?" asked Wisdom.

All of Raven's avatars looked over at Timid.

"Well, yes," she said softly. "I really, really don't want to do this. But . . . the man must continue. This is the only place left we can draw power from. And it would be a lot easier if Intellect hadn't put all the chains on."

"It seemed," said Intellect, "the logical thing to do at the time."

All of the facets of Raven's personality laid their hands on the door and began to pull . . .

* * *

The surface of Tamaran.

"He's pretty smart, but he trusts me, and is gullible. Maybe this will work . . ."

Raven gaped and pointed over Changeling's shoulder as he looked at her urgently in an effort to get her to leave. Startled, by her sudden misdirection, he glanced behind him.

And then Raven _changed._ It hurt. It always hurt. It was one of many, many reasons she didn't ever do this. But as her body shifted, the energy flowed . . .

_Lub-dub. _Changeling's heart measured time.

His head began to turn back to Raven as he wondered just what the hell she was pointing at.

_Lub-dub._

Raven flashed forward, her cloak whipping about her, her hood pulled low, crossing the distance between her and the Changeling less than an instant.

_Lub-dub._

Aboard the Cyborg-dyne Systems T-300 Prototype Battle-Mech (Mark I – Beta), T to his friends, and he had one of those, thank you very much, all was content. It had been a short time on-line, but the final order was complete, and best of all:

"Objective #1: Save Cheerleader. Success: 58%"

"Objective #2: Save world. Success: 91%"

_Lub-dub._

The much-abused Xenthonium engine core went critical and exploded. Normally such an explosion would be spectacular, but as the shockwave from the exploding core hit the nuclear material in the fusion charges, it smacked them together and generated critical mass, and the whole pile went up in a truly spectacular display of pyrotechnics. Best viewed from a long, long way away.

_Lub-dub._

Changeling saw the very beginnings of the flash from the exploding pile, but his vision was immediately obscure by something that jumped at him from the dim recesses of the cavern. He got a brief impression of a double row of fangs and something . . . wrong. And then in fell into a darkness that was somehow familiar.

The Changeling awoke first. He was lying face down on what felt like warm stone. As soon as he inhaled, he knew exactly where he was: Outer Perdition. He'd know the stink anywhere. That unique blend of iron, from the blood, brimstone from the volcanic acid, and carrion from . . . whatever giant critter Trigon seemed to like to keep hidden just out of site stinking up the place. He moved his arms just to start to lift his head and torso off of the ground and regretted it. Every muscle in his body was leaden and sore. He felt like he'd been smacked by a bus. Held by Mammoth. While he was pressed against a building. On Jupiter.

"Ow," he said.

Slowly he lifted his head. He pried his eyes open even more slowly. He was on the top of a tall, mesa in the middle of a huge valley, somewhere in the countryside of Outer Perdition. The distant walls of the cavern were black, shot through with veins of glowing red the color of old blood that pulsed in time to some insane rhythm only they could hear. The ceiling above periodically flickered with something very like lightning.

Cheery place.

He was painfully struggling into a kneeling position when he saw something that made him completely forget about his discomfort. It was Raven's cloak. The cloak was unmistakable, but someone, no some _thing _else was wearing it. His claws popped and his lips peeled back from his fangs.

"I don't know what kind of beastie you are," the thought, but I know a critter that's best at dealing with outsiders who mess with his mate."

He flickered. _El adrea. _Tarzan had called him "Numa." A fully mature adult male lion stood over the body in the cloak. Raising a massive paw, it snarled, and took in a massive rush of air to roar as it struck. And then it sat back on its haunches in shock. Changeling has a better nose than any other human alive. But Numa is a scent hunter. Astonished, he flickered again, and a bluetick hound, possibly one of the most sensitive scent hunters on earth. He snuffled around the blue-cloaked body for five full minutes before sitting back.

Lavender, old books, mystery, and at the very bottom, just a tiny hint of brimstone. The stench of this place had confused his human nose. He looked closely, pulling the cloak away from her body, then the hood from her face and then jerked his hand away. It was _Wrong_. All wrong. But still . . .

They eyes can be deceived. The ears can hear lies. But the nose, knows.

Raven stirred.

"She won't want me to see her like this," he though, and lay back down, face first.

Pain. Raven's world was nothing but pain.

"Fortunately," she thought, "that's nothing new."

She shifted, waking more thoroughly. Her claws scraped on the stone, causing her eyes to fly open.

"Oh ew," she thought, glancing around.

"Azar! Changeling!"

He stirred and groaned.

Quickly, Raven _changed._

"Did he see . . . ?"

"Raven? How did we get here?"

She stared at him for a moment, but he didn't say anthing else. Raven sighed quietly. He hadn't seen.

"Still," she thought, "for a second, I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me."

"Raven?" he said again, quizzically.

"You set off an atomic bomb," she said, staring at him.

"Well . . ."

"At your feet."

"Hey now, it was a _least_ twenty feet away."

"Indoors! You set off an atomic bomb _indoors! _Are you out of your tofu-eating mind?"

"Well excuse me. I was all out of missiles. Now, why are we here again?"

Raven sighed. "I was really, really tired. I couldn't take us to minimum safe distance, so I had to go to another dimension. This one was the one I knew best. Plus it was closest."

"Well, it give me the creeps. When can we get out of here?"

Raven replied, "We can leave in about an hour, when I've rested."

"So, were stuck here, huh," he said.

"Yes."

"Just you and me."

"Yes."

"All alone."

"Yes."

"The two of us."

"Yes you idiot."

"Then," he said, "we should talk."

Raven opened her mouth to retort, then closed it and started again, quietly. "You're right."

They sat silently for a few moments, then, Changeling spoke.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"I know that's not enough, but it's all I've got," he went on, suddenly conscious of how close she was lying on the hard stone floor.

"It's okay."

"I . . . what?"

"It's okay that you hurt me. You didn't mean to."

"That – that's true," he said. He shook his head to clear it. Her scent had somehow made its way through the miasma of Outer Perdition. It was distracting. "But it's never okay to hurt you. Hurting you is never, ever on the list of 'Things to do today.'"

"I'm glad to hear that."

There was a long silence. Then Raven spoke.

"Starfire told me what happened. I'd like to hear your side of it."

"You sure? I'm not keeping any secrets. But I also don't want to sound like I'm making excuses."

"Your excuses are covered. Starfire made it out to be all her fault entirely," Raven answered.

"That's not fair," he replied. "I made my own choices. I have to own them."

Another pause and he continued. "I'd turned into an elephant and stood over her to protect us from the falling dirt and rocks. Then I shrank down to normal. When you're standing next to it at the zoo, an elephant looks pretty big. But when you're buried alive in a small bubble the size of an elephant, it's pretty darn small."

He stopped to look at her. Raven just watched him, not smiling, but with an open face, just waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I don't know what all Starfire told you about her time at The Citadel, but it wasn't pleasant, and she took home some issues."

"Ah, I get it," Raven said with an arched eyebrow. "You're really good for ladies with issues."

He stopped, looking away.

"Sorry," said Raven. "I was kidding. Please don't stop now. I need to hear this."

He looked back at her. She wore no makeup. Her normally silken hair was matted with perspiration and Tamaranian dirt. Her smooth skin was showing battleship gray through numerous rents in her tattered leotard. Sweat was drying on her clothes and there was dried blood on her face. He licked his lips. She'd never looked lovelier.

"She was unconscious at first. She'd hit her head, but she woke up in moments. It was okay at first, but when she found out there was no way out, that we'd have to wait for you to come for us, she started to freak out. I was really surprised. I mean, she's so upbeat, and at the same time so tough. Who would have thought being stuck in a small room would mess her up so much?"

"Phobias aren't rational. That's why they're phobias."

"Anyway, I grabbed her by the shoulders to get her attention and kinda – shook her a little. Not hard, just, you know, to get her attention away from the situation. To make her listen to me."

"And it worked?"

"Hoo-boy. All of a sudden, her face changed, and it was like she was a different person. She came on to me, like, really, really hard. I mean . . ."

"I get it," said Raven, staring at the far distant cave wall.

"You do?"

"Sure – I know all about re-directing dangerous emotional energy. She had to do something with her panic, or it was going to spill over. And maybe kill you both."

"I'm not saying it gives me a pass. I could have made other choices, but I didn't think."

"What did you think? I mean, at the time?"

"Not much. I mean, if you really want a quote, I was probably thinking 'mmm, girl,' or something."

Raven snorted. "Okay."

"Okay?" Garfield responded. "What's that mean?"

"It means I've heard what you have to say. I've heard what Starfire had to say. And it all makes sense. Starfire has worked very hard to live within what she thinks are 'normal earth-girl mores.' But she's _not_ an earthling. Her background is literally alien to us. And under severe emotional pressure, she turned to an outlet that was instinctive for her. And it probably saved both of your lives."

"Maybe. But it cost me something far more valuable."

There was a long, long silence. Raven was desperate to say _something_, but nothing came to mind.

"Don't – don't say that. Don't ever say that," she eventually said softly. Even more softly she whispered, "The man must continue."

Raven swung around, drew her knees up under her, leaned on one arm and looked up at him, waiting. Eventually she spoke into the silence.

"You came for me. In the middle of battle, in the smoke and in the noise, with lives on the line, including your own, you came to me. _Me. _With all of that going on, all the places you could have been, all of the places you _should _have been, you came and guarded my back."

She slid closer.

"Yes," he said.

"Why?"

"You have to ask?"

"How else," she answered, her voice low, "am I going to make sense of it? I've treated you like crap for almost half a year."

"Yeah, well, I figure I had it coming."

"I'm not so sure about that anymore," she answered as she leaned closer.

"I've been quoting _Star Trek _all day," he thought. "Why not go for one more? 'Today,'" he said in his mind, "'is a good day to die.'"

He seized the demon-girl by the shoulders and kissed her. To his great surprise, her arms whipped up around his back and pulled _hard_ as she kissed him back.

After a minute, he broke off, gasping, and she said, "Thank Azar. I was beginning to think I was going to have to hit you over the head."

"Raven, I don't get it," he said, "Two days ago, you could barely stand to be in the same room with me. Now you're kissing me."

"Garfield," she said, her face pressed into his chest. "Why don't I show my emotions like a normal person?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Show me you understand me."

"Ok – 'cause if you just cut loose, you break things."

"Right. And when can I show my emotions?"

"After you've processed them – sometimes by just thinking them through, other times by full-blown meditation."

"Okay – and the stronger my emotions . . ."

"The more damage . . . oh."

"Yeah – oh."

"It took you all that time to process . . . stuff?"

"Not entirely. But kinda."

"Wow."

"I love you a lot," she said.

"Still?" he asked.

She glanced down, and then looked up at him. "Yes. And – I heard what you said."

"It was the truth," he replied. "I needed to say it, just in case."

There was another long pause as he held her, looking over her shoulder and out into the distance.

"You know," he said, "That makes me realize that I've been being pretty stupid."

"I don't like it when you say that about yourself. You know that."

"Anyway, I had to say 'I never stopped loving you' in case one of us _died._"

"And?"

"And people die unexpectedly _every day. _In fact, people like us risk our lives daily. How many retired superheroes have you heard about?"

"Ummm . . ." Raven thought. "Well, there's Lord Bravery over in England, and I think the original Flash retired successfully. But your point is taken. We do tend to die on the job."

"So . . . seize the day then?"

"Carpe diem."

"What do fish have to do with it?"

"Never mind. So what happens next.'

He heaved a great sigh. "First, I kiss you some more. But after that, we wait until you have enough mojo to take us back to Tamaran. We see where the state of the war is. When there's time, we out ourselves to our friends."

"That," she said, "will be entertaining."

"I know. What do you think . . . "

She interrupted. "I thought kissing was next."

* * *

[1] IFF – Identify Friend or Foe: Specialized radios signal that modern armies use to prevent smart munitions from killing their own equipment.

[2] Sorry. Couldn't help myself.

[3] Technically, lizards are "2/3 hearts," because they have three, rather than four chambers, like us mammals. But The Beast doesn't count so good.

[4] "This is _my_ territory. Only _I _hunt here! If _you_ want to hunt here, come prove it's your territory."

[5] "Anybody else think they want a piece? It's all right here! Come tear off a piece if you think you can!"


	59. Steam - And A Shock to Blackfire's Syste

Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

Infinite Dragon: Nailed it in one. I was listening to Spiderbait's cover of "Ghost Riders in the sky" when I was writing that scene. You missed the visual, though. There was a _really_ great scene in the Nicholas Cage movie _Ghost Rider_ called "Carter Slade's Last Ride." Check it out on youtube. If you are familiar with the old comic book, you know that the Ghost Rider always left flaming tire tracks everywhere he went. He teams up with a 19thy century Ghost Rider on horseback who leaves (you guessed it) flaming hoof prints. That was the inspiration for Changeling's flaming footsteps. I just loved the visual.

Guest – Yah. One of my favorite movies. I saw it back when it was in the theater and it really stuck with me.

Chowbo – Oh, you'll see her other form if you stick with me. I've got a dramatic reveal all written out already.

Johnxgambit – You aren't the only one who forgot about Raven's other form. I don't see the Beast as having a separate ego or animus from Changeling. Rather, it's JUST his Id. Only a vestigial ego and superego. The Beast is who Changeling is when all the rules are stripped away.

Yodaheisnot – Two nukes. One for each boob.

TheUtsukushiiYume – Well, your profile sez you're 19. Where do you live? We could give it a shot. (Don't panic. Kidding.)

Shadico – Glad you liked it. It seems to be getting mixed reviews. And that would be tellin'.

IanZakk – Glad you liked it.

Otaku03 – I like writing the Beast. He has a very comfortable outlook. To get a better grip on what Raven turned into, Youtube the episode "Nevermore." As Raven points out, she's half demon. She's got another form. We only see it once, in "Nevermore," and only underneath her cloak. You're going to see it again if you stick with me. I've already written the description.

Guest – I love writing Changeling kicking ass.

Krostovikraven1 – Yeah, nothing sez "let the hell go" like a thumbnail in the eye. I'm going to miss the mech, too. She was beginning to grow a personality.

Greyshield – Thanks. Sometimes I worry that I'm taking the characters too far from their cartoon roots. But they are in their mid-twenties, and have to grow up.

Midnightdelight – Too much gross humor?

DazzlingAmethyst – I know. It took me forever to get my set pieces where I wanted them so that I could stage that reconciliation.

Raeven E – You know, lots of people ask me that.

Arashikage1988 – Always nice to hear from you.

BrahC (40) – I'm glad you're enjoying it. I've worked pretty hard to make the changes in the characters believable. The Beast is a lot of fun to write. I promise – I don't read minds. And I know, 40 was over-the-top-cheese. And not even a sophisticated cheddar or canenbert. It was Velveeta cheese product. But I had great fun writing it and it turned out exactly the way I hoped.

Needleman – Glad you like it.

Steeltoedsandal – He swore he'd always have her back.

* * *

From the Author:

Whew. This one took even longer than I hoped, but it's finally ready to put out. Most people seem to like the way that the story is going, but you can't please everybody. Okay – samples. Let's see – in this chapter there will be changes at the highest level that I don't think anyone will see coming. Another reconciliation. That's a total of four: Raven and Starfire, Nightwing and Changeling, Raven and Changeling, and now Nightwing and Starfire. There. Toldja I could fix it. It's even (mostly) believable. Farther down the Road: Raven makes a pragmatic decision as a woman who flatly refuses to reproduce who's involved with a man driven by his primal instincts. Changeling starts to deal with being one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Raven declares some rules of conduct. And Nightwing makes a horrible professional discovery.

Oh, and I apologize. I've let my interest in Greyson and Kori's story sorta push Raven and Changeling to one side. In retrospect I should have expected it. It _is _Starfire's home planet. She's gonna figure heavily in anything that goes on. This chapter wraps most of that business up. There are a few loose ends for the next chapter and after that our focus will return to where I promised.

Oh, and for those interested in such things, as of this chapter we've traveled over a quarter-million words together, you and I.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." - Lamont Cranston

* * *

The Tamaranian troops few and ran at a ground-eating trot, the Grand Ruler and her two teammates bringing up the rear. The caverns were dark, lit only by the dim phosphorescent lichen common to subterranean Tamaran and the headlamps of the few troops equipped for underground operations.

"Are we at the 'safe distance' yet," Starfire asked, looking at Cyborg.

"Dunno," Cyborg replied as they raced along in the dark. "We really should be twenty or thirty _miles_ from ground zero to be "safe," but underground like this, and with all the twists and turns in the tunnels, we get a big bonus. But I don't know if it's gonna be enough."

As they rounded the next corner they were confronted by two dozen Tamaranians in civilian clothes furiously working around the walls and the roof of the cavern.

"Who are you people?" demanded Starfire. "All civilians are supposed to be sheltering in place in the city."

An utterly enormous male Tamaranian lumbered up to Starfire and said, "Beggin' your pardon, Grand Ruler, but _all_ Tamaranians were warriors first, before they were anything else."

It was Ragnarr, site boss of the Comms job site.

"There ain't no civilians."

"Very well," said Starfire, "but what are you doing here? There is going to be a huge fireball coming down this tunnel very soon. We must clear all persons away."

"Captain Changeling said you wanted this tunnel closed, but didn't have time. My crew are specialists: we break things. We'll be ready in five minutes."

"We cannot wait five minutes. You should be moving. This place will be extremely dangerous very soon."

"Yer majesty, all o' Tamaran is in danger. We can do this."

Starfire considered carefully for a moment.

"Very well," she said. "Close the tunnel behind us if you can."

The three Titans raced on, weapons abandoned, in an effort to catch up with the main body of the army. After five minutes or so, there was a loud "whump" in the distance and and a slight overpressure as the shockwave rolled up the tunnel.

"Judging from that pressure wave that construction crew closed the tunnel behind us," said Cyborg.

Just then there was a much larger roar, and the earth shook. People rattled around in the tunnel like jumping beans. As soon as the shaking stopped, grim-faced sergeants immediately started assessing the damage. Casualty reports came back to Starfire: light. No deaths, mostly bruises, just a few broken bones. As the casualty reports were summed up, Garfield's demolition crew came trudging in, carrying Ragnarr, who had suffered a broken leg.

Koriand'r leaned against the stone wall, tired, sore, filthy, and bleeding.

"We must . . . must continue back to the City and send out the reconnaissance to find the Changeling and Raven." She squinted her eyes shut and shook her head, her long red locks shaking.

And so they did. The hike back to the city was long and hungry. With so many wounded they had to take it slow and easy, and the only supplies they had with them were whatever people happened to be carrying when forced to drop everything and withdraw into the cavern. The entire journey took almost three days.

The battered army emerged into a vibrant, living city. Everywhere vehicles moved, hauling debris out or supplies in. The air was filled with various aircraft. Large cargo vessels settled down in open areas or carefully lifted clear. But the first thing Garfield Koriand'r noticed was that people were _smiling._

"Grand Ruler!" said a young subaltern, the first soldier they encountered, "Welcome back."

"Quickly," said Starfire, "What is the status within the city?"

"I am just a subaltern, Grand Ruler, facts are a little thin on the ground for me. But the rumor is that the Gordanians have departed. The city is coming back into order."

"That is wonderful," she replied. "Carry on, subaltern. Come friends, we must proceed to the palace immediately."

And so it was done. The wounded were left at the entrance to the cavern with caregivers until they could be picked up by medical personnel. Once there, they found that Galfore had assumed command of the recovery effort. Changeling's gratuitously large fusion explosion had annihilated almost 80% of the Gordanian ground forces. With the ground forces gone, or mostly so, the Gordanian fleet had had no reason to remain engaged and had withdrawn with the Home Fleet harrying them out of the system. The long journey up the tunnel meant that Raven and Changeling beat the rest of the team to the palace by a wide margin.

Galfore had already made the decisions immediately necessary in the aftermath of the invasion. The senior staff and the Titans were able to take a break and sleep for almost two days straight, coming together only for meals and light conversation.

* * *

It was during this period Cyborg was relaxing on a balcony and Changeling and Raven made an appearance. Changeling seated himself near his friend and Raven, as had become her pattern, looked out at the city while Changeling sat down, then she sat near him. Not tightly or anything, just so that he was within arm's reach. Cyborg grinned.

"What's so funny?" asked Changeling.

"You guys. Are you ready to tell me what happened in 'Outer Perdition,' or are you going to keep trying to 'be discrete?'"

Changeling frowned and scratched his head, "What are you talking about?"

Cyborg ignored him and addressed Raven. "It's a pretty good act, Raven. But no matter how many times you roll your eyes at him, no matter how much you ignore him, no matter how much time you spend with your nose in a book, you can't hide the fact that you always literally keep him within arm's reach."

Raven flushed maroon and looked away from both men.

"He was too far away for too long."

"There's nothing to talk about yet. I mean, we've discovered some stuff, but it's private."

"I'm sure," Cyborg said. He smiled, but then waggled his eyebrows.

"Dude," said Changeling, "It's not like that."

"It's not like it's some big secret," said Raven, "it's just that there's so much going on I didn't want to . . . add to the circus."

"Things are pretty calm right now," said Cyborg.

"Maybe," said Changeling, "But we're also 140 trillion miles from home and in a strange place. Things might change when we're home again. But we've discovered that we don't like being apart."

Raven added, "We're also pretty sure that things aren't what we thought they were. We're trying to figure it out."

"Heh," said Cyborg, "That's what 'dating' is for."

"Well," said Cyborg, "we can hang out here for a little longer and help Starfire sort things out, but with the worst of the crisis pushed back, we should probably start thinking about getting back to earth. Kid Flash and Jinx can't keep the lid on Jump City forever. And Nightwing's got Bludhaven to think about."

"Right," said Changeling, eager to change the subject. "Let's go and find the other two and see what they thing. Maybe make some plans."

The three friends strolled to the gym to find Nightwing, but he wasn't there.

"That's a surprise," said Cyborg. "Let's try the situation room. One of them should be there."

But Blackfire was the only person in the situation room.

"No, I haven't seen Nightwing, or my sister," said Blackfire, carefully closing a folder on the table before looking up.

"You might try the infirmary or the library. Excuse me, I have work to do."

She gathered her paperwork and slipped out of the room.

But a quick review of the infirmary, the library, the great hall, and even the throne room revealed no Nightwing and no Starfire. Eventually they found themselves in front of Starfire's bedroom.

"Maybe," said Garfield, "She decided to take a nap."

"Well, we'll just take a peek and . . ."

Cyborg stopped suddenly, his hand hovering over the doorknob. There, hanging over the knob was a black ribbon.

"No," said Cyborg, "That's not a ribbon."

He squatted down and examined it closely with his cybernetic eye.

"Don't touch the door. Don't knock, and don't speak loudly," he said in a quiet voice. "Let me get a look at this first."

"What's the big deal? It's just a piece of ribbon," said Raven.

"That's right," Cyborg said, "Neither of you guys ever went to college."

He continued without looking up. "Back in the day, if you were living in a dorm room, you had at least one roommate. Sometimes you might bring a lady in for . . . company. It was the custom to hang a tie from the doorknob to advise your roommate that the room was 'occupied,' and he was not to come in."

"Kinda sucks for the roommate, doesn't it?" asked Raven.

"I wouldn't know," he muttered. "I was always the one hanging my tie."

Cyborg stood, ribbon in his hand.

"Dura-weave, mega-mesh and nomex," he said.

He turned it over and continued, "Smart lenses. One way coating, infra-red and darkvision build in. Low-strength telescopic capability as well. Will also stop a small-caliber pistol round if you're lucky. It's Nightwing's mask all right."

"You sure?" asked Changeling.

"I can run a DNA swab if you like, but we need to back quietly away from the door and not disturb them."

"Why - OH!" Changeling's eyes grew wide.

"Brilliant as usual, Holmes," said Raven.

He frowned at her. "Was that really necessary?"

She glared at him, but he held eye contact until she looked away.

* * *

About two hours ago, Starfire found herself staring out her window at the stars-swept heavens. Sol, Earth's primary wasn't visible from here, but she knew the way. She's walked the distance twice. It was right . . . . there. She extended her finger and covered the entire system with her fingernail. Truly, 140 trillion miles is a long, long way.

"But I have made the decisions, and they are the right ones for me. After tomorrow . . . but that is for tomorrow. Tonight I shall do the following of Blackfire's playbook, and do the abusing of my authority."

She leaned out her doorway and called a guard. She gave him some very specific orders, and shortly runners from the palace guard were shifting the guards around. The elite training center was to be off-limits to all but the Privy Council tonight. She would not be disturbed. The coronet of the Grand Ruler came off first. Then her armor, and then the gambeson and intimates she wore beneath it, leaving her bare. One quick shower later she looked down and rubbed her fingers over her wrists, one after the other, stroking the smooth scars that had been left by the Citadel manacles. They were the only flaw on her otherwise perfect complexion. She sighed and walked over to her mirror, nude.

She looked at herself, really hard. Starfire didn't compare badly with earth-girls.

She'd read countless magazines and watched endless TV shows, and her form was as beautiful as any human female. She knew this without either vanity or false modesty. She knew very well that it didn't make her a better person, but it should have made dating easier. Her eyes roved over her own form. Like most Tamaranians, she was almost hairless from the eyebrows down. But there was enough sparse red fuzz on her mons to mark her unmistakably as an adult. Her skin tone was . . . different, but often human writers spoke of "golden skin" and "deep tans." Surely she was not so very different. Reluctantly her eyes swept back up to her face. It was here that she was so clearly marked as . . . inhuman. Her brows were small scarlet tufts close to the middle of her face. They suited for frowning in anger or arching in surprise, but human women were different. And finally, she looked herself in the eyes. It was here that she made humans most uncomfortable. Her almond-shaped eyes were cast upwards in the corners, catlike. In the wrong light, her irises faded into the greens of her eyes, such that she appears to have no irises or pupils at all, a look that many humans found "freaky," and deeply disturbing. She sighed again. At least tonight, in this light, her eyes would look more "normal."

Still nude, she walked to the closet where her linens were stored. Her hands poised over a bright pink bath sheet.

"No. White for purity. At least, as much purity as someone like me can manage," she thought.

Then she grabbed a strong hair clip and gathered her scarlet mane into a single rope and clipped the coil up high, leaving her elegant neck bare. She finished her ensemble with a pair of simple rubber sandals. Opening the door, she padded down the hall toward the training center.

She'd known Nightwing for nigh onto ten years, and his training routine never varied. Time permitting; there was a cardio warm-up, weight lifting, and then martial arts to complete the session. Then a quick shower in cold water, twenty minutes in the steam room, then a hot shower and some yoga for flexibility. She could tell to the minute exactly what he was doing without even being in the room. She entered the women's locker room and walked confidently up to the women's steam room. Opening a panel, she conjured a starbolt the size of her little fingernail and proceeded to flash-fry a valve in the mechanism. It would be a simple, quick repair, but the ladies sauna would be off-line until it could be managed.

Then she entered the gymnasium proper, and headed for the men's locker room. She paused, her hand on the door for a moment, bowed her head and swallowed. Then she pushed the door open and strode in like she owned the place.

"For," she thought, "I _do_ own the place."

"Why," she thought, "do the male rooms of lockers _always _have to smell like this?"

She wrinkled her nose and headed toward the wooden door that would mark the steam room. She paused again for a moment, then pushed the door open and walked in. Nightwing scrambled to throw a towel over his mid-section.

"Starfire?"

"Yes, friend Nightwing. It is I, your, um, friend Starfire. The ladies room of steam is out of order. May I share this bath of steam with you? I am most sore from our fight with the Gordanians and the stress of reconstruction."

"Sure, Starfire."

She sat down on the bench near him, but not touching.

"The scar," she said, "is almost faded."

He looked down at his chest. The angry keloid he'd gotten from Slade a few years back had faded almost entirely back into his skin.

"One of the perks of a northern European background. We don't scar much," he said.

Beads of sweat began to pop out on Starfire's forehead and arms. Wayward strands of her crimson hair stuck to her neck and temples. She tentatively reached her hand out to the scar on Nightwing's chest.

"I am, glad that you are healing so well."

Her fingers landed on the ridge of the scar. Nightwing flinched ever so slightly. Starfire's touch was hard to forget. Tamaranian metabolisms run a little faster than humans, resulting in a slightly higher body temperature. Starfire normally walked around with what would be a low-grade fever in a human. So her fingers were always warm to the touch. And he remembered it well. He shivered, in spite of the temperature. Sweat ran down his chest.

"Starfire, I . . ."

"Nightwing," she said sharply, not letting go. "You promised on the field of battle we would do the talking. It is private here. We have no deadlines, no place to go, and nothing to do until the morning."

"All right Starfire, talk."

Starfire took a deep breath, and began to speak. She laid it all out for him: Tamaranian physiology, cultural mores, and sexual attitudes. Then her voice dropped, and she talked about her phobia of being closed in and where it came from. Then it dropped further when she talked about her panic, and how she responded to Garfield's efforts to calm her.

"And so, you see," she finished up, "we never meant to hurt anyone."

"Star," he interrupted. "I already knew most of that."

"Then why have you been so . . . distant? Did we hurt you so very badly? Is it so hard to forgive? Please – we . . ."

"Star, no. I mean sure, it hurt. It hurt a lot. But I saw my parents fall to their deaths in front of me. I've been chewed out by Batman. Hurt and I are old, old friends. It's not about forgiving. It's about who I am, and what I believe."

"Then what . . .?"

"It was my own reaction. You've spent almost a decade trying to be like an earth-girl, and I suddenly realized that you were cramming yourself into a mold you don't fit and you were doing it for me. Your core beliefs; who you are. They are very different from me and my background. If I were to accept you into my heart, I need to be able to accept _all_ of you, not just the bits and pieces that I approve of. It's not fair to either of us otherwise."

Starfire turned away and looked out of the large glass window that made up the one side of the steam room. Rivulets of water beaded up on her shoulder blades and rand down her spine. The white terrycloth was beginning to soak through. She put her hand against the window and her chin dropped to her chest.

"I will not," she thought, "become the sloppy mess again."

She closed her eyes, but the tears squeezed themselves out from between her eyelids.

Inhaling, she spoke firmly, "I am doing the calling of the bullshit. The truth is that you do not think that you can trust me after what I have done. I am the ignorant, not the stupid. You do not believe you can trust me to not do the slutting around. The other women of earth do not trust me around their men. You think I do not see them when they interpose their bodies between their men and me? That I don't notice the dirty looks? Because of the way I dress, or walk, or hold my body? But you can. You can trust me. I will prove myself worthy. I promise that I will never . . ."

Nightwing's eyes widened, not just at her words, but the tone in her voice. He'd never, ever meant for her to beg, and she was right on the edge of it. It was never a question of whether he loved her. Only if he could accept her, all of her, as she was. It wasn't a matter of trust. It never had been. It had only been a matter of his own limitations. A woman like Starfire should never grovel.

Something struck her on the shoulder, gently falling there, across her bare skin, to lie on her flesh, cool and unresponsive. She looked down at it, blinking. It looked for a moment like a broad black ribbon. Then she saw the white lenses embedded in it.

"I know," said the tenor voice from close behind her, "about trust. It's the opposite of paranoia."

The voice drew closer. "I'm something of an expert on trust. It's precious. I know when to give it, and when to take it away. And _my_ trust is mine to decide on.

Strong hands, cool in spite of the heat grasped her shoulder and turned her around. She raised here eyes. The first thing she saw was cobalt blue. Nightwing's eyes, which she had never seen, were the color of the summer sky before sunset. The color of the summer sky, and seemed to go on forever.

* * *

"We'll just talk to them in the mornin'" said Cyborg, and he led the rest of the team back to the private dining room, where they split up to go to bed.

Several days later, there was to be a ceremony, several ceremonies, actually. Many had died, and more had been injured or suffered great losses. These things needed to be publicly recognized and mourned. Many had done great things, and these people needed to be recognized, rewarded, and elevated as deserved. Blackfire had been delegated to recognize senior military and scientific officials, as well as some of the greatest heroes from among the Tamaranian and mercenary forces. Starfire watched closely, and then spent some extended time closeted with Etann-Fossh, Galfore, and the High Priestess of X'hal.

As the team prepared to go home, there was to be a final ceremony. Starfire insisted that her friends were to be recognized, and she would brook no opposition. All of Tamaran was to be watching. The highest surviving nobles of the land, the senior military officials, and even the Admirals of the Expeditionary Fleets stood in the great Throne Room.

He vast bronze doors of the throne room slowly swung open as the orchestra played another Earth-processional. Full of ringing brasses and rolling percussion, the warrior-minded Tamaranians found themselves smiling quietly as the orchestra tested the structural integrity of the building with the power of their crescendos. The Palace Guard, resplendent in their shining traditional maille and carrying both traditional and modern weapons at port-arms filed into the room in honor of those who followed them. The Titans, wearing their regular fighting togs, were followed by Blackfire, Galfore, and Etann-Fossh, who wore ceremonial Tamaranian battle armor. The sun glinted off the metal as the imposing figured processed towards the throne. Raven kept her eyes pointed straight ahead, her hood up to conceal most of her face. She was very uncomfortable out in front of the whole of Tamaran like this. A lifetime of trying not to be noticed hadn't prepared her for this kind of event. Changeling, on the other hand, couldn't help himself. He kept looking back and forth from the crowd to the cameras and waving, a huge grin on his face. Starfire had let slip: they were to be knighted. Cyborg and Nightwing came next, and leant a much greater gravitas to the processional. Nightwing, all in black, his face stoic, and Cyborg, his mechanical components buffed to a high shine, his face composed and the floor trembling ever so slightly under the weight of his mass.

There was a break, a brief separation in the processional, and the Grand Ruler entered passed through the doorway. Starfire practically glowed. Her normal, cheerful smile was somehow – louder. Her golden skin was flawless. She wore a white gown whose hemline traced the floor. Asymmetrical, it hung off of one shoulder. Tiny scattered silver fibers in the fabric glinted in the sunlight streaming in from the high gothic arches of the windows. Feet firmly on the ground, she still seem to float as she gracefully moved across the crimson carpet and toward the throne of United Tamaran. Her hands drifted by her sides, utterly relaxed. With confident steps the mounted the dias and spun, her dress flaring out and effortlessly settling about her legs as she settled onto her throne.

With all due ceremony and dignity, each of the Titans was initiated into the Most Noble Order of the Blood, the highest honour Tamaran could bestow. Starfire deviated from the Tamaranian award ceremony for Garfield to include a dubbing with a sword. It wasn't normal for Tamaran, but she couldn't bear to disappoint him. Etann-Fossh and Galfore were also so honored.

Then Starfire spoke again.

"Kormand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r, for all your actions, past and present, stand to center," she said her voice flat, her face expressionless.

Blackfire's eyes widened and she shot a glance at Starfire, then at the doors and windows. The room had been positively wallpapered with Palace Guards, who had fought for Koriand'r at what had become known as the Battle of Changeling's Waste. All were utterly loyal to Starfire and were armed with modern weapons. She licked her lips and knelt in front of her sister with a bowed head. For now.

With no vocal inflection, Starfire once more went through the ancient ceremony, elevating Blackfire to the Most Nobel Order of the Blood for her service and personal valor. Relieved, she began to rise. Starfire's hand came down on her shoulder like a bar of iron.

"Remain. You have other business before the Court this day."

A murmur ran through the crowd. This was unprecedented and not on the program."

Starfire turned. "Call forth the Seneschal, Keeper of the Law."

A Tamaranian elder strode forward, his face concerned.

"Lawkeeper," asked Starfire, "Who should be rightful heir to the King, by law?"

"Grand ruler," he answered his clear voice audible to the back of the now utterly silent room, "the Eldest, first born his heir. This is the law, since the time of Thorfinn, called the Law-Giver."

Blackfire ground her teeth together.

"I'm not sure what the little bitch is up to, but guards or not, I will not be mocked," she thought.

"It is as I thought," Starfire continued. "Let the High Priestess of X'Hal be called forth."

The older woman stepped forward from her place behind the throne accompanied by a young girl bearing an ornate box of great antiquity.

"Since the death of King Myand'r, the throne of united Tamaran has been vacant. We have been ruled by a succession of Grand Rulers who have passed the coronet from one to another in accord with the Law. But by Law, by Custom, and Tradition, the title of Queen goes to the first born daughter of the reigning monarch," said the Priestess.

She turned and extracted a very, very old and battered golden crown from the box. It had clearly been recently cleaned and polished to a high shine. Blackfire, looking up from beneath her bowed head gasped audibly. The Priestess passed the antique crown to Starfire.

Starfire spoke again, her voice ringing out in the utterly silent room.

"By the Law, By Tradition, by Custom, and _by my will _then, do I ask, Kormand'r Myand'r-Luadn'r, to accept your birthright, and your duty, before these witnesses. Do you accept this responsibility of your free will?"

"I – I – I . . ." stuttered Blackfire.

"Answer," snapped Starfire, "or forfeit."

"I will," choked out Blackfire.

Blackfire remained on kneeling, unable to rise. A tear streaked down her face from her one good eye.

Starfire raised her hands to her own temples, put her thumbs under the cornet of the Grand Ruler, and removed it. She gently placed it into Kormand'r's hands. Smiled brightly and placed her hands on the kneeling brunette's shoulders. With Boundless Confidence, her hands squeezed like iron claws, deeply brusing the flesh beneath the fancy clothes. Kormand'r's eyes widened in pain.

Still smiling brilliantly, Starfire spoke through her teeth.

"You have much to do here, Sister. The Gordanians have not sued for peace, and when they have recovered, they will return. The colonies are in disarray. Two remain under Gordanian occupation. The Tamaranian ecosystem is a wreck. I have recognized your birthright, and I am leaving you to your legally recognized and legitimate power. Take care of my people. Galfore and Etann-Fossh are only the most visible of my agents. Should they have any 'unfortuate accidents' or 'sudden illnesses,' I will know. I will know faster than you can imagine. Your bomb has already been removed from the T-ship. The mercenaries you hired are under house arrest in the cellars, and the administrators you have suborned have been sent to the most wretched duty-stations on the colonies, and there they are going to stay. I have beaten you _three times_, Sister. I am leaving you with everything you ever wanted. Do not make me come and take it from you. I am leaving Tamaran for good. Unless you force me to return."

She loosened her grip. Blackfire gasped as blood began to again circulate in her shoulders.

"Do you remember," Starfire said, softly, the lullaby Mother used to sing to both of us, when the world was still green and lush, before the Gordanians came?"

Blackfire shook her head, still unable to speak. Starfire slid her hands from her sister's shoulders and gently touched the sides of her head. Oblivious now to the millions watching, she raised her voice.

"The battlefield is silent, the shadows growing long.[1]  
Though I may view the sunset I'll not stay to see the dawn.

The trees have ceased to rustle; the birds no longer sing.  
All nature seems to wonder at the passing of a Queen

And now you stand before me, our father's flesh and blood,  
Begotten of his sinews on the woman that he loved.

All our trials and troubles, lie behind us now today  
And now you stand before me to bear my crown away."

Starfire let go of her sister and turned to the box the Priestess was holding. From it she took a mace-shaped scepter coated with gold and intricately jeweled, and a bulky antique ring.

"The hour is fast approaching when you come into your own  
When you take the ring and scepter, and sit upon the throne."

Here Starfire placed the mace in Blackfire's left hand, and took her right hand in her own. Blackfire's hand was shaking so badly Starfire had difficulty putting the oversized ring on her middle finger.

Before that final moment when we each must meet our fate  
Pray gaze upon the royal crown and marvel at its weight."

Starfire took the ancient and honoured Crown of Tamaran from the Priestess of X'hal and held it high. The highly polished metal sparkled in the beams of sunlight that poured into the hall of Starfire and Blackfire's ancestral home.

"This cap of burnished metal is the symbol of a land  
Supporting all we cherish, the dreams for which we stand.

The weight, you'll find, is nothing if you hold it in your palm.  
The burden of the crown begins the day you put it on."

She lowered the crown and held it before Blackfire's face. The older woman stared, mesmerized. The single tear had become a flood, salty fluid staining one side of Blackfire's face.

"See how the jewels sparkle as you gaze at it again.  
Each facet is a subject whose rights you must defend.

Every point of light a burden you must shoulder with your own  
And mighty is the burden of the girl upon the throne."

Starfire took the crown and placed it gently but firmly on Blackfire's head. She stepped back, gathered her skirts in either hand, and bowed a deep, reverential curtsey.

"My time is nearly ended, my friends all wait fourfold.  
You stand with grace and power as you always have foretold.

Keep well for me my kingdom when my memory is dead.  
And forgive me for the burden I place upon your head."

Starfire's voice faded from the air and she backed into the shadows, disappearing through the door to the situation room. Once there, she turned her back to Nightwing.

"Unzip me," she said.

Still a little overwhelmed by what had happened in the throne room; Nightwing looked around at the other Titans.

"Here? Now? Um, I know I said I was going to try to accept you as you are, but . . . baby steps?"

"I am not doing the taking of the giant steps. I need to do the changing of the clothes so that we may leave quickly."

Nightwing shook his head to clear it. "Right. Of course."

Dress unzipped, Starfire slipped out of it without ceremony and stood for a moment wearing nothing but a thong and strappy, jeweled white high heels. Nightwing glanced down, Changeling goggled, and Cyborg resolutely turned his head away.

Raven blinked, then said, "Um, Starfire . . ."

Starfire rolled her eyes. "Humans," she muttered, and grabbed the purple crop top she had not worn since she had come to Tamaran. She pulled it over her head and shoulders, settling her breasts.

"There," she said with some exasperation, "I am the decent. You may now quit looking away as though I were a throndak-beast in molt."

"That's hardly decent," began Cyborg, but Nightwing interrupted him.

"Just let her get on with it. We need to move."

Starfire very quickly pulled on her skirt, gorget, boots and gauntlets. She grabbed a small tote bag.

"There, I am ready to rock the roll. Quickly, we need to be on our way before my sister gets over her shock."

Changeling shouldered a backpack. "Now I get why you wanted us to pack last night. Why the hurry?"

Each Titan grabbed their back as Starfire led the way out the other door of the Situation Room and headed toward the armory where the newly refit T-ship awaited them.

"I wish to up-ship before my sister is able to use her new authority against us. I do not think that she will, but . . . I am cautious. As long as I live there is the potential that I will return and take from her what she believes is rightfully hers. Further, she will not thank me for remaining around and distracting from her coronation ball."

"So I guess we miss the party," said Nightwing as they entered the Armory.

She gave him a blazing look. "When we get home, I will throw you such the private party you will not walk straight for a week."

Nightwing swallowed, and then grinned.

Cyborg stacked all the bags in the cargo section.

"No xenothium to be had here, so we'll be taking the long way home," he said. "Just the fusion thrusters. I got 'em tweaked up, though, so we'll make good time. I hope everybody brought a good book. Hey, speaking of the xenothium, Changeling, you never told me how you got the core to fit into the chassis of the mech. The specs weren't remotely correct."

"Oh, I used the Second Law of Field Expedients."

Cyborg laughed. "Oh, you didn't."

Changeling just grinned. Cyborg stopped laughing and went a little pale.

"You did. You took _ten pounds _of highly unstable reactive xenothium out of a padded, gimbaled, shielded, and _duck taped it_ to the inside of an aluminum box."

"Hey, you said duck tape could fix anything, Dude."

"Within reason. He blinked. Hey. If you didn't put the core into the socket of the mech, where did you find the carbon-insulated, chemically neutral plasma clamps to connect the core to the battery bank?"

"The what?"

"Changeling, how did you hook up the core?"

"Jumper cables."

"J-jumper c-cables."

Cyborg sat down.

"They should have at least melted down and set fire to the aluminum chassis and the xenothium core."

Changeling smacked him on the back, "Yeah. But they didn't. The day got save, the bad guys are gone. No harm done, right?"

Cyborg just glared.

The Titans took their places in the T-ship, each to their own cockpit.

"Starting final countdown. Begin final checklist. Main Power – Online," began Nightwing.

"Defensive systems activated," replied Raven.

"Oxygen tanks at maximum," said Changeling.

"Fusion thrusters: ready to fire," finished Cyborg.

"Titans," said Nightwing, "Go!"

The engines of the T-ship roared and the armory filled with aviation fuel fumes as the ship lifted off and the Teen Titans headed for home.

* * *

[1] Adapted with great affection from the _Burden of the Crown_, by Derek Foster, aka Baldwin of Erebor ©1979. Forgive me Baldwin.


	60. The Horror of Bludhaven

Author's Notes:  
Shout Outs –  
Tolgarth – glad you like it. Great to hear from you.

Steeltoedsandal – I wasn't surprised at all. Sold as a sex slave for five years can make a lady carry a grudge.

Chowbo – It's one of my favorate folk pieces from Medieval re-enactment. And yeah, humans are like that. Star anticipates more awkward moments and looks forward to helping her friends become more civilized emotionally.

JOHNXGambit – Always glad to hear from you. I deeply, deeply regret my failure to see a "booby trap" joke in all of that cross-dressing mecha business. I feel like a failure. Truly. I laugh at Titan's GO! Myself. So don't worry.

Otaku03 – I'm glad you liked it. There will be a reveal of Raven's other form later on if you stick with me. There may not be a "epilogue," but there will probably be some "bonus features" after the final chapter. We'll have to see how it goes.

InfiniteDragon – Sorry for all the errors. And for telegraphing Starfire's last move on Blackfire. I had thought it was fairly subtle.

Shadico – Glad you liked it. It wasn't everyone's cup of tea. And that's okay. I don't have to please everyone.

DJMax340 – It's taking a lot longer per chapter these days, but I seem to be able to keep about the same quality up. (Not everyone will agree with me here.) I look forward to your final review.

Krostovikraven1 – I'm glad you liked it. If you'd like to hear Baldwin singing the original of this song, hit him up on Youtube. He's Baldwin of Erebor, I think.

Cpt Opinionated – Exactly. Mind you, I'm not trying to HIDE them, per se. Just trying to introduce a layer or plausible deniability.

Ilikeyourwriting – Thanks for the kind words. I'm afraid that FF dot Net VERY aggressively kills links out, so we didn't get to see your document.

Guest – It would be hard for me to write from Blackfire's point of view. I don't like her, so putting myself in her high heels would be tough.

Hairul the Nightrage Beast – Long time no see. Yeah, I liked the picture in my head, too.

The Hairy Wampa – Thanks! I really appreciate the compliments. I have a couple of more scenes I want to write, so we're not quite done, but I'm almost there. Changeling's issues with being "Death" is addressed in this chapter.

Lord Vukodlak – Good to hear from you again. No – Garfield's issues are unrelated to Raven's, at this time.

XxSeiko-ChanXx – Glad you liked it. The tie-on-the-door signal is as Old As Roommates.

LovelyMagicDarkStrength – Thanks. I'm on it. Just a few thousand more words to go.

Blue Ring of Hope – I haven't settled on an "ending" yet. Just a few concepts I want to round out.

Browneyed Baby – Send me a private message by clicking on my name, or e-mail met at lamont dot Cranston1066 –at- gmail dot com and I'll point you toward the lemon basket.

iHwanniex3 – Send me a private message by clicking on my name, or e-mail met at lamont dot Cranston1066 –at- gmail dot com and I'll point you toward the lemon basket.

* * *

The T-ship's systems hummed quietly as the team moved through interstellar space in_ transition_ back to the Sol system. Not nearly as powerful as the xenothium, the standard Tamaranian core and Cyborg's fusion thrusters made for a significantly longer voyage.

Starfire looked into the odd mist outside the bubble of her cockpit while in _transition_. Being able to _transition _herself had made her more or less immune to the nauseating effects of otherspace on the humans. She sighed and looked down at the instruments.

"Just another way that I am different," she thought, a little sadly.

Her headset crackled and the comm "all call" lit up.

"Hey Starfire," asked Changeling, "Can I ask you a question about Tamaran?"

"Of course, Friend Changeling. What is it you wish to know?"

"How come you left the crazy lady that's tried to kill you, like five times and sold you into slavery in charge?"

Starfire smiled a sad little smile.

"It was not easy," she replied. "But the simple answer to your question is that I did not want the job."

"You didn't want to be Queen? Grand Ruler? The big palace, the cool toys, and the huge pile of cash . . . How could you not want that job?"

She smiled to herself. "You sound almost disappointed in me."

"No," he replied, "Just confused."

"Friend Changeling, I have no friends on Tamaran. Galfore cares for me, but he treats me as a child, or as his ruler. Never as his friend, or equal. It is a thing about being a royal. Because of my position as a princess, no one ever got close. There is a . . . separation between me and others that is very hard to overcome."

"You mean, before you came to Earth, you never had any friends _at all?_ Harsh."

"When I was a small child, and status did not matter, I had the playmates. The staff of the Palace has children and I ran around with those who were of an age. But as I got older, I became separated from the others. As a Princess I was also prohibited from having the 'inappropriate attachments.' I was expected, of course, to marry for political reasons. Unlike a Royal on Earth, of course, there was no worry about mating incorrectly, but efforts were made to prevent me from choosing a battle-mate, so that I would remain a suitable marriage candidate. And once I was given to the Warlords of Okarra for my battle training, I saw no one but training partners."

"Wow," said Changeling, "I knew you'd had a pretty tough childhood. You'd have to, to be able to fight the way you do, but I never realized you never had any friends."

"Wow," thought Raven, "I guess I don't have a monopoly on 'I grew up alone' after all."

"I also do not trust them," she continued. "At Blackfire's instigation, my own parents sold me into slavery so vile I do not like to talk about it. I cannot blame her entirely. My own _parents._ And it was voted on and approved by Parliament. What reasons have I to believe that, should Gordania offer them peace at the price of my captivity that they would not sell me to them _again_. I will _not_ return to The Citadel. Ever_._"

"No," said Nightwing quietly, "you will not."

She smiled at him across the fuselage of the T-ship, through the mists of otherspace.

"And I do not like the job. I like being with people who care for me for _me,_ not my position. I do not like the politics. The kicking of the bad-guy butt is more satisfying. And I do not live in dread that I shall be sold into vile servitude."

"Y'know," said Changeling, "I have a question, as long as we're playing games?"

"What game are we playing," asked Starfire. "Do I need rules?"

"Never mind. Why, when you say some stuff, do you say 'by my will, alone?'"

"That is a privilege of the Grand Ruler. The authority to do most things comes to the Grand Ruler by law, tradition, or custom. Sometimes the Grand Ruler may wish to violate these laws. If she does so, she does so by her will alone, and is unsupported by law. It is an open challenge. For the example, you may recall that on my wedding day, I challenged Blackfire for the position of Grand Ruler. When invoking 'my will alone,' I was telling all of Tamaran to either challenge me or . . . what is the phrase? Sitfoo."

"'Sitfoo?'" asked Raven.

"ESS-TEE-EFF-EWE. STFU," put in Changeling.

"Ah," said Cyborg. "That's pretty ballsy."

Starfire shrugged. "I did not want the job. If I was going to do it, it was to be on my own terms. If someone did not like it those terms, they were welcome to the job, if they could take it. Blackfire was right: they were the desperate for my help, as I was desperate for yours."

There was a long pause.

"So Starfire" pressed Garfield, "That explains why you abdicated. Why put Blackfire in charge?"

Starfire thought a moment and sighed again.

"Because of many things. Perhaps foremost is that I love her, and wish her to be well in her mind. Galfore knew her all her life, and advised me to watch her as we fought our war. The central fact of her life is that she was passed over as heir to our father's throne for me. It was done because she could not, as a small child, summon up enough joy to fly. It twisted her perception of everything. All the ill she has done me, personally, and all the ill done to Tamaran was done to get back what she believes, in the silence of her soul, is rightfully hers. And she is not entirely unjustified in believing so. By law, by custom, and tradition, she should have been the heir. It is my hope that by validating her 'rights,' I have started to mend what was so broken in her spirit. But also, I watched her. She is selfish, greedy, hedonistic, and narcissistic. But she also takes great care to guard what she regards is rightfully hers. There is a good chance that she will care for Tamaran just because it is 'rightfully hers.'"

"Something else I didn't get,' Cyborg put in. "What was that business about 'Grand Ruler' and 'Queen.' Aren't they the same?"

"No," Starfire replied. "The role of Grand Ruler was forged in my Grandfather's day. When the Gordanians first came, it was clear that we would have to be united to fight them off. It was far easier to get the other Royal Houses to bend a knee to the "Grand Ruler" than to bow to him as King. As you have seen, the title of Grand Ruler can be passed from one person to another, without regard to birth or tradition as circumstances warrant. But in the process of putting all of that together, he, and later my father actually managed to subordinate the other 'kingdoms.' They are now 'Grand Duchies.' Queen, on the other hand, is a hereditary title that must flow from parent to child, or sibling to sibling. Should I find it necessary, I could return to Tamaran and once again make myself grand ruler by challenge. Her Majesty will remain Queen for as long as she lives. No one, not even I can take that away from her. It is my hope that this will heal what has hurt her so."

The team sat in silence for a little while, absorbing all that Starfire had said. The odd mist of otherspace continued to flow over the airframe of the T-ship as the propulsion system throbbed on.

"That's pretty noble," Raven observed.

"Perhaps," said Starfire. "But I confess that I am also making the virtue out of the necessity."

"How so?"

"Blackfire really, really thinks she wants to be Queen. She would never stop so long as I outranked her. Prior to the Coronation today, she had no fewer than three plans to supplant me in the works. She placed a bomb aboard the T-ship, hired a bunch of thugs to kidnap me, and bribed a bunch of administrators to implicate me in a plot to sell off young Tamaranian girls to the Citadel. My choices were to give her what she wanted, kill her, or spend the rest of my life trying to keep her from stabbing me in the back. But that is enough of the talking of my sister, and of Tamaran. From now on, there is no more 'Koriand'r of Tamaran,' only 'Starfire of Earth.' Can we have a cookout when we get home? I wish to have the binge on mustard."

"So, you guys are back together now?" asked Changeling?

"That's right," said Nightwing. "We've got some challenges ahead of us, but we're going to make it work."

"I'm guessing your first challenge is where you're gonna live, right?" asked Cyborg.

Starfire looked across the hull to Nightwing's pod, "What does he mean, boyfriend Nightwing?"

"That's right, Star, I guess we never talked about it. I live on the other side of the country from Jump City, in Bludhaven now."

"But, boyfriend Nightwing, how can you be a Titan if you do not live in Titan Tower?"

"I guess I'm not really a Titan any more, Starfire. I've got important work to do in Bludhaven."

"But I do not wish to _go_ to Bludhaven," she replied. "I am the sick for my _home._"

"It's okay Star, we don't have to do anything right away. I've been away for months. Batman can manage Bludhaven for at least a few more days, and you don't have to come to Bludhaven right away."

"But I wish to be _with_ you. And I must be with you if we are to be together, must I not?"

"We'll work it out, Starfire. You'll see."

* * *

It was two days later that Raven noticed a new pattern in the Changeling's behavior. He stayed engaged with the others and participated in conversations when addressed. He was polite, mostly charming, and generally good company. But he never spoke first, never cracked any jokes, and almost never laughed. If not directly addressed, he would sit quietly, staring out the canopy into the disturbing patterns of otherspace.

"Of the five of us," Raven thought, "Garfield has the tenderest stomach. No way is he actually watching otherspace that closely."

During a refueling break, the braced him. He was sitting on a short concrete retaining wall, staring out at the traffic at the spaceport. She walked along the berm and came up next to him. She looked down at him, smiled very, very gently, placed her hand on his shoulder and said, "Wanna talk about it?"

He startled at little bit and said, "Talk about what?"

"Whatever it is that's eating at you. You're not still sweating that business with Starfire still, are you?"

He shook his head. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

He looked up at her. Her wide amethyst eyes were concerned and her smile was tentative.

"I just never really thought I'd kill . . . anybody. Let alone, what I did."

"You . . . killed somebody?"

He frowned slightly. "The Gordanians, Raven. At first, I stomped 'em like cockroaches. Dozens, maybe hundreds of them. But that was nothing. When I set off those nukes I . . . Well, Armorer and Cyborg said that the estimates were that I took out, no, _killed_ about 1.2 _million _of them."

"But they . . ."

"I know," he interrupted. "They were aggressive, homicidal lizard-people bent on slavery, domination, and conquest. And maybe _eating _some of us. But they were still people. With mates and cubs, hopes, dreams, and passions, and I ended them. I ended them all."

"I never really thought about it that way. I was just so grateful to be alive at the end of it."

"I know. I didn't want to bother you with it."

"Regrets, then?" she asked.

He rose, placing one hand on each of her shoulders and looked her square in the eye.

"No," he said firmly, "I don't regret what I did for a minute. I just regret the necessity of doing it. I'll be okay. I just need time to . . . process it."

Raven didn't really know what to say to that, so she just leaned forward and put her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest, purple hair spreading across his tunic.

* * *

The days passed quickly and soon the Sol system hove into view. With great care and patience, Cyborg worked the T-ship down from high orbit and through the busy air traffic pattern to land at Titan Tower. Something was up. Inside the hanger/garage was the unmistakable silhouette of the Batplane. The pods of the T-ship hissed as they opened and the Titans piled out.

"Hey guys," said Jinx as the five people clambered out of the orange ship. "Welcome home. Hey, you brought Starfire! Are you staying?"

"I hope so," Starfire replied. "I do not have all the information yet."

"Why is Batman here?" asked Nightwing.

"He said you needed to hear it from him. He and Superman are in the common room."

"Right," said Nightwing. "Just let me get the bags . . ."

There was a sudden breeze.

"I already put your bags in your rooms," said Kid Flash.

"Oh – okay then," said Nightwing, and he and the Titans headed to the common room.

Sure enough, the Titans entered their common room to a startling sight. Around the long table off to the left sat not only Batman, but the massive form of Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and the Flash.

Changeling blinked. He whispered to Cyborg out of the corner of his mouth, "What gives? That's like all of the founding members of the Justice League except the Martian Manhunter."

Cyborg hissed back, "I know, man. I've never even heard of all of that mojo being in one place unless something _cosmic_ was happenin', or there was a formal meeting on the _Watchtower._"

Raven closed her eyes and sighed. "There's no point in whispering. Superman is probably the only person on the planet with better hearing than Changeling's. He can hear every word you're saying."

"That's okay, Raven," said Superman, "We get that all the time. Actually, there's an informal network of people around the world who assign disaster levels by how many of us show up."

"So," said Nightwing, "Um, what brings you to Jump City?"

The senior heroes all looked at each other, except Batman, who kept his eyes on Nightwing's.

"I've come," he said, "to report out on what happened to Bludhaven while your city was under my care. I failed."

"Batman," interrupted Wonder Woman, "That's unfair, we agreed . . ."

"No, Diana, you people did all of the agreeing. Nightwing entrusted his city to me, and what happened was my responsibility."

He turned back to face Nightwing. "There is no easy way to do this. In your absence, The Brotherhood Of Evil, working in concert with Secret Society of Supervillians dropped a previously unknown . . . thing on Bludhaven, and the city was destroyed."

"Wait, what?" Nightwing's eyes bugged out slightly as he stared.

Aquaman spoke. "It's called 'Chemo.' It was the result of an ethical but poorly-planned effort to contain chemical and organic waste. It's alive, sort of, and semi-intelligent. Tens of thousands were killed in the initial impact. It scattered toxic waste and radiation over the city center."

Nightwing blinked, unable to absorb it all, "But, Barb . . . Batgirl?"

Diana spoke gently, "Like you, Batgirl and Robin were out of the city at the time, and are safe. The local heroes, Tarantula and the others, we don't have any information on, but they haven't checked in with the Justice League, Doom Patrol, Homeland Security, or anyone else. They're listed as 'missing, presumed dead.'"

Nightwing slowly sat down. "How did it happen?"

Batman placed a black, pointy memory stick on the table. "All the details are here. I'm assuming you'll want to review them. But in brief, Chemo was dropped from a high altitude and literally exploded, sending both shock waves and toxic chemical fallout around for miles."

Diana put in, "That was when Batman called in the League. He spared no resource or expense."

"Too little, too late," said Batman. "Once on the ground, Chemo began to re-integrate itself. Superman directly engaged the creature while the rest of us tried to evacuate the population."

"I ran three pairs of boots to destruction," said the Flash, "and the rest of the team moved heaven and earth to get people out."

Superman took up the thread of the story, "I figured that Chemo would need all of its power to fight if it were engaged in heavy combat, so I fought it directly, and hard. It turned out my guess was correct. When pressed, the creature drew the majority of the toxins back into itself to re-integrate and fight me. Unfortunately, as the thing became more concentrated and larger, it became more destructive. There came a point where leaving it to absorb more toxins was causing more damage than getting rid of it. I threw it into deep space."

Aquaman spoke again. "Most of the remaining buildings and space around Bludhaven are still too toxic for human life. I understand that the state government is working with the Feds to wall it off, both to prevent looters and contain the hazards."

The Green Lantern spoke only once. "I am so very sorry. We were caught completely by surprise. Batman did everything he possibly could but . . . the final death toll was 100,068 persons, dead or missing presumed dead."

"Thank you all for coming with me," said Batman.

Diana said, "The gravitas of the . . . announcement called for all of us to be here. We'll leave you with your family. Nightwing, I am so very sorry."

And the Justice League filed out, each person expressing personal regret for being unable to prevent the disaster. Nightwing sat at the table, staring at nothing in shock. Raven shoved a cup of hot tea under his hand. He sipped mechanically.

"Boyfriend Nightwing," asked Starfire tentatively, "Are you . . . all right?"

"All those people," Nightwing whispered. "I should have been there."

"No," said Batman. "All you would have done by being there was to have died yourself. The scope of the disaster was beyond the pale. No one saw it coming. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. You trusted me and I let you down."

"Maybe I would have seen something. . . . some clue . . . "

Batman said, "I've looked. I've spent weeks second-guessing myself. I should have done better; looked harder . . . I'm sorry."

Batman put his hand on the younger man's shoulder for a moment, and then waited. The silence stretched out.

"Nobody's perfect," Nightwing said softly. "I'm sure you did all that you could."

"Come, Boyfriend Nightwing, let us go to the couch, where you can be more comfortable."

Absently, Nightwing rose and allowed Starfire to guide him to the couch, where he sat beside her, speaking only when spoken to, and sipping cooling tea on into the evening. He didn't eat dinner, and when the evening turned into night, Starfire finally suggested he go to bed. He retired to her bed without comment or action.

Raven looked around the room. Understandably, the common room had been quiet all day, out of respect for Nightwing's mourning. Changeling was nowhere to be seen. She checked the roof, the gym, the kitchen, and finally ended up in his old room. She walked up to the bed and poked the lump in the blankets.

"Hey you," she said, "move over."

A green head emerged from the blankets, "Hi," he said, and slid over next to make room.

"You didn't come to my room," she said.

"I didn't want to be pushy. Tamaran was, you know, battlefield conditions and everything. I don't know what the new rules are here, yet."

"My room hasn't changed. It's still too creepy for you. Can I sleep in here?"

He smiled softly. "Sure," he said.

She slid into the blankets next to him and he curled around her. Raven listened to his breathing as it turned into the soft snores she remembered so well and gave some thought to something that had been bothering her for some time: her own history. Her therapy, interrupted by the war on Tamaran, had brought her to a number of realizations. She listened to the snoring of the wise, goofy, stable young man who had agreed to share her life and thought, long and hard.

Therapy, meditation and introspection had taught her a lot about herself. She'd cultivated an image of a cool, emotionless intellectual, but the reality was that she was hot-tempered. Hot tempered and prone to pre-judgment. And inflexible. She snorted quietly to herself. One of the hallmarks of a true intellectual is the ability to let go of positions that have been factually proved untenable or demonstrated to be logically unsound.

"Instead," she thought, "I jump to conclusions, make snap judgments, and carry grudges."

She thought some more. "And sterile," she thought. "I'm never going to be able to have children, and I'd make a lousy mother if I did."

She lay there for a long time, his scent in her nostrils, his body warm against her own, with her thoughts quietly spinning, orbiting the concepts of love, need, honor and commitment. She thought about reason and her own more recent voyage of self-discovery.

Nevermore: Raven's Mindscape

"We love him, of course," said Eros, "That goes without saying."

The other two triplets, Agape and Philia, nodded.

"But there's more than just our own needs to consider, here," said Wisdom.

The avatars of Raven's emotions had gathered at the center of her mind to confer.

"He's happy," said Happy. "Isn't that's what's most important?"

"We want him to be happy, of course," said Knowledge, "but we have to be careful that we're not being selfish. We don't want to be rationalizing meeting our own needs at his expense. He's going to want children, and probably children of his own making. And we should also consider what we have put him through."

Rage demanded, "'Put him through?' What have _we_ done? We weren't unfaithful!"

Brave barked back, "Will you let that _go _already? There was that whole business of running like a scalded dog when he slipped up with Starfire!"

"That," said Timid, "was _his_ fault. We were _hurt._"

"Yes," responded Wisdom, "but we didn't respond to the hurt in a constructive fashion. You wouldn't allow us to listen to him and come to an understanding of his motives or the circumstances surrounding the bare facts."

"Not to mention," Said Agape, "all of the will-we/won't-we we put him through when we first started dating."

Ravens avatars wrangled for a long time, rehashing the past, picking over Raven's motives, Changeling's motives, and looking ahead to the future.

"There's no way around it," declared Intellect. "We're a bipolar, emotionally constipated _mess_. There's no way he's going to put up with our crap in the long term, and we're going to be _years_ getting better."

"We're – we're not going to dump him again, are we?" asked Timid. "I hate it when we do that. It hurts."

"No," said Wisdom, "we're not. I want everyone to be clear on that. What we do have to do is accept that sooner or later he's going to want a woman who can be there for him when he needs her, and who is willing to bear his children, which we cannot. We're going to enjoy what we have, but when it's over, we're going to say good-bye graciously, and not turn into a psychotic bitch."

Raven's whole body relaxed slightly as she came to a final, internal conclusion. She fell asleep with a small smile on her face.


	61. A Question An Answer

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs:

A Half-Empty Glass – Glad you liked it. Great to hear from you. Hope to hear more.

Brownedyebaby – I sent you a PM. Please let me know if you need any further help.

Hwanniex3 - You got a PM also.

TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne – Nobody's perfect. She wants to be loved. Hard to resist that and do the right thing.

Otaku03 – Oh, I could, I could. I'm cruelty incarnate. Nothing makes for a better story than piling utter misery on your characters. And I'm sure Raven could find a way. She just refuses to.

IanZakk – Great to hear from you, but really, I need SOME words, even if they are just "you suck" or "you rock." I need to know if you like it or not!

Shadico – I thought Raven's final decision was uplifting. Why did everybody think it was so depressing? Nothing lasts forever, but she's appreciating what she's got now.

Krostovikraven1 – That's sure one way to look at it. And maybe he does.

JohnXgambit – I thought about that, but I was so ready to get back to Jump City. I just couldn't face another epic battle out of town when were only barely back to Earth.

Yodaheisnot – Not really a continuity issue, just a poor choice of words on my part. Raven was referencing her child-free lifestyle choice, not her plumbing. If I go back and edit this thing, I'll update that so that it reads a little different.

Victorthe3rd – I'm glad you liked it. "Shades," however, is coming to a close at long last. I have a few more scenes left to write, but we're about done. There are some more stories to come, though.

Randamwriter – No, not quite done yet, but almost. And yeah, tough one on Greyson. I thought it was handy though, for DC to destroy that city for me. Good excuse to bring Nightwing back to Jump City.

DNC ELEETS – Glad to hear from you. Kind words are my only payment.

TheBlueRingOfHope – I'm glad you like it. I try not to force the characters or the plot places that the don't want to go, so I'm particularly please to be told that it "flows well."

Annonumus – Here you go. Step away from the edge.

InfiniteDragon – Glad to hear from you. The fate of Blüdhaven was actually A DC thing back during one of the "Crisis" series.

Anbu-Nightfury : 'kay. Here's another chapter. Over 7000 words, too.

Chowbo – I won't be returning to Blüdhaven or featuring Chemo again unless there's a twist of positively Shyamalan proportions. That's really a Nightwing set, and I've let him and Starfire dominate what was supposed to be Raven and Changeling's story for far too long. I hope you enjoy what I've baked up for this episode. Raven's going to learn that she doesn't call all the shots.

xxSeiko-ChanXx – Glad you liked it. Kid Flash is a favorite of mine as well, but I don't know him as well as I know the Big Five.

Charlizard777 – Lots of people have enjoyed my translations of "guy." Thanks. Forced? Which one?

Promised of Freedom – Sorry. Poor choice of words on my part.

Guest – Like I've said, not sterile. Poor choice of words on my part.

Mkell734 – I'm glad you liked it. It took a LOT more than three days to write, that's for sure. I'm glad you like the direction the story is going. I've been told a lot of people read me at work or in class. It's very flattering to know that my storytelling has the power to get people into trouble. Yeah – the plots are derivative. This is chiefly an outlet for me when I see somebody else's really good idea that I think I can execute well. It's my take on popular tropes. Sorry about the spelling errors. I do proofread, but by the time a chapter is done, I'm already cross-eyed from looking at it. Yes, I have a couple of for-pay projects under way, but my writing time is limited, and this project has sucked up a lot of it.

Hairul the Nightrage Beast – Not a lot of people saw that coming.

Charlizard777 – Nope. For proof, here is chapter 61.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I suppose I should start out by being clear that I've not written Raven as sterile. As far as she knows, all her girl-plumbing works as it is designed to. When she was thinking last chapter, she was applying a metaphor to her child-free lifestyle choice. She considers herself to be an evolutionary and genetic dead end. Unable to produce children, she considers her life to be "sterile." I may crank out an update that fixes that prose, which is clearly confusing if you don't live inside my head.

Looking close by, I finally got to publish one of the scenes I've been sitting on for months. See if you can pick it out. We'll see Raven's other form in this chapter, as well as a Changeling getting one over on her in a spectacular fashion. Barbara Gordon is consulted. As a veteran of Gotham City, she's an expert at the seamier side of life. Grrrl-Power is also going to run amuck in a less than sterling fashion.

Farther down the road, well, there's not much road left. We've a bachelor party to see to, and maybe a wedding, although I've already written a Raven/Garfield wedding scene in "Raven's Wedding." I'm not sure I'm up for that again. I've also got a big surprise planned for Raven and a heartfelt plea from Nightwing on the drawing board. I'll also have a few pages of "bonus material" after the final chapter.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do." – Lamont Cranston

* * *

They'd been home for about ten days and slowly the team began to revert to something that resembled normal. They were pretty quiet most of the time out of respect for Nightwing's, well, it could only be described as mourning. The initial shock wore off of Nightwing after a single night's sleep, but he continued to quietly mourn for quite some time.

Batman departed after the third day. The rest of the team was on the couch. It was late afternoon and the golden sunlight streamed in the big picture window.

"I don't get it," said Changeling on the tenth day, "Blüdhaven was a _hole._ I mean, sure, there were good people there, and it sucks that they're dead. But we see awful things happen all the time. He's acting like . . ."

"Like his child died," said Raven.

"Say what?" said Cyborg.

"Yes," Starfire responded, "That is it exactly."

"It is?" Changeling asked.

"Nightwing is having trouble doing the articulating of his pain, but he speaks of taking the responsibility for Blüdhaven. And of making the progress. It is as if a 'problem child' was just making progress, and was struck down in traffic, for no fault of his own," continued the redhead.

"Wow," said Cyborg, "I never thought of it that way. But when he left here, he pretty much left everything behind, just like when he left Gotham City. Things didn't end very well here, and he probably pinned lots of hopes on cleaning up Blüdhaven like we did here in Jump City. Seeing all that potential just get . . . cut off, well, wow."

Nightwing was quiet most of the time. Not uncommunicative, just very sad. Starfire waffled. Sometimes she hovered over him like a red-headed broody hen. Other times the kept her distance.

"I am," she confided to Raven, "inexperienced at the 'comforting of the bereaved. On my planet . . ." she began, and then trailed off.

"Yes?" said Raven.

"You were on my planet in wartime. You know of the Tamaranian mourning."

"Loud, violent, and short, as I recall."

"Yes. This is very strange to me."

"Just be patient," Raven said. "All human mourn a little differently. It may take him some time to . . ."

A harsh siren began to blare. Robin's head whipped around to look at the large screen. The alert claxon blared three more times, and then went silent, replaced by a quieter beep. The screen displayed a map of the city center with a flashing icon in the financial district.

"The Hive Five," said Nightwing through clenched teeth. "Like I have time for this petty crap."

He raised his voice. "Titans, GO!"

At a quiet signal from Cyborg, the rest of the team secured the perimeter and let Nightwing get to work. He was the epitome of crime-fighting efficiency. With everyone else making sure no one escaped, Nightwing took down the entire Hive Five team without additional help.

"Nightwing appears to be one of those people who 'work through' their grief," said Raven.

"Well," said Changeling, "I've got something for him to do."

The green man rushed off to the Cyborg's office and came back with a photograph.

"This was taken six weeks ago at the Jump City International Airport."

He handed it to Nightwing, who took the picture and turned it around. He looked at it from several angles. It was a slightly grainy shot of a middle-aged white man in a trench coat. He'd been caught in the act of turning away from the camera as he passed in front of the sign that said 'arrivals.' But there was no mistaking the eye-patch.

"Slade," Nightwing said, flatly. "Why didn't somebody tell me about this sooner?"

"I just realized it was him this week," said Garfield, ". . . and you were so, unresponsive . . ."

"Never mind," said Nightwing. "I've got research to do."

He dashed off to Cyborg's office.

"I think," said Cyborg, "I just lost my office. Way to go, Green-bean."

"I am having the mixed feelings," sighed Starfire. "I am glad to see him motivated again. But now I will not see him for _days._"

Time passed as it has a tendency to do, and Starfire's words were prophetic. Nightwing didn't emerge from his research for almost a week, pausing only to eat sandwiches and sleep a few hours at a time. In the end, he discovered Slade's plot, the Titan's foiled it and Slade barely escaped with his liberty intact. When they came out the other side, Nightwing was mostly his old self again.

* * *

It was a few days later that Raven called a 'family council.' They met again in the common room, late one evening after dealing with a weird duo that called themselves "Master-Blaster." Pizza bones and empty boxes littered the table. She carefully selected her time when Kid Flash and Jinx were had gone out into the city for a late-night date and her five oldest friends could gather for a few quiet words.

"I want," she began carefully, "to make sure that the air is clear about the things that happened among us over the past six to eight months."

"I thought we had all done the making of the peace, yes? You are still angry with Changeling? With me?"

"No, Starfire, I'm not. I just . . . It's not just Nightwing that has to be more accepting of who you are."

"Please Raven, I do not understand. I am the . . . outsider here. It is my job to do the 'fitting in.' I promise . . ."

"No," Raven interrupted. "Don't make any promises yet. Just listen. When I came here, I had nothing. I _was_ nothing. I did everything I could to push people away. To keep my distance. And yet I was always welcome here. Maybe not on Earth, but in this Tower. People opened their home to me – accepted me for who, for what I am. Even with all I've done, billions of times worse than anything Starfire has done. All of us, but especially me, need to accept Starfire for who she is."

"Please Friend Raven, the Earth will never become Tamaran. I _am_ the stranger here. It is _I _who must make the adjustments. If I expect the earth to adjust to me, I will be waiting a long time."

"Maybe not the entire earth," Raven replied, "But I won't accept any promises from you to be anything other than who you are."

Starfire smiled brightly. "Very well, Friend Raven. May I instead promise to do the borrowing of your mate _only_ when suffering the existential crisis?"

Raven smiled, "If you must."

* * *

(Much Later) Nevermore: Raven's Mindscape

It was dark, as always, but the sky over Nevermore was littered with silver stars who light cast a clear gleam upon the landscape.

"C'mon guys, lighten up," said Happy, the avatar of Raven's joy. "He was _trying _to do right and not get a moisture ring on the new end-table."

"The _Book of Azar,_" grated Rage, "Is _not_ a coaster."

"Well, no," Sloth replied, "But he wasn't really paying attention to what book it was."

"Well, he should have," Rage insisted. "He's been with us for a long time now. He should know better."

"I have a question," put in Wisdom. "Who was it that left the _Book of Azar_ on the end table _knowing_ that likes to sit there?"

Intellect frowned and shot a glare at Eros.

"Hey," the most outspoken of the triplets objected, "It wasn't _my_ fault! He came up behind us last night and did that thing he does where our neck meets our shoulder, right above the collarbone. I was distracted."

"You're _always_ distracted," grumbled Intellect.

"So really," Wisdom went on, trying to bring the conversation back to the point, "Don't we share _some_ of the responsibility for _some_ of the damage?"

The avatars continued to wrangle for a while, but eventually Wisdom brought them around to the admission that leaving the _Book of Azar_ made them at least partially responsible for the moisture ring on the cover of the old book. Raven relaxed as she meditated, her expression becoming less stiff as her internal conflicts were resolved and her mind became calm.

* * *

Normally when the Titans traveled for hero work, either the Justice League or the US State Department plowed the road through the labyrinth of red tape that is the world of international travel. This trip would be a little different. The Titans were headed for Europe to participate in a large professional development seminar for European heroes. They had been invited to present lectures and demonstrations on topics as varied as "Aerial Pursuit – Help or Hazard?" and "Hacking the Bad Guy Data Fortress – Legal and Moral Implications."

But without a life-and-death emergency or the fate of the world hanging in the balance, the Mandarins in Brussels that run the European Union were insisting that all of the paperwork be in order before the Titans would be allowed into the country.

For Garfield this was actually no problem. "Beast Boy" and "Changeling" were actually just nicknames. Legally, he'd always been "Garfield Mark Logan." He even had an up-to-date passport in that name. With no goofy mask he would sail through customs with no problems.

Cyborg was in a similar position, as he had also never had a "secret identity." After his accident he had bitterly dropped his birth name, answering only to his hero name: Cyborg. Eventually, he'd changed his name legally, leaving "Victor Stone" behind entirely. And his had a passport under the name Cyborg.

Of all the Titans, you'd think that Nightwing would be the biggest problem. Of the five of them, only Nightwing actually maintained a secret identity. But Batman had long ago dealt with this problem for his one-time side-kick. "Robin" actually had a legal existence apart from Dick Grayson, and Nightwing would be able to travel under that name, passport and all.

It was the girls who turned out to be problems. Starfire had simply fallen from high orbit into Jump City. No one had ever bothered to sort out her immigration status. Since then, the Earth and the government of the United States had opened diplomatic relations with Tamaran, and as a princess, Starfire had sort of been attached to the Embassy. When she cut all ties with the planetary government, Starfire lost all legal status.

Raven was even worse. Having come through a dimensional gate in Gotham City, she hadn't really ever crossed a border, legally or not. She had just "appeared." Starfire could at least produce Tamaranian documents that could be shoehorned into the naturalization process as "birth certificates" and "school records." Raven had none of that.

Nightwing retained an attorney specializing in immigration law, and they began the long, tedious process of creating a legal identity for Raven.

She'd been resistant at first, questioning the need for all of the work.

"If I'm really needed in the EU, the emergency protocols will cover me. I can just skip the stupid conference and stay home."

To her surprise, Changeling butted in. "No, Raven. You're a real person, actual and whole. You're entitled to be treated as such. It's basic human dignity. I will not set foot any place where you are not welcome."

Her cheeks went maroon.

"Oh, I guess I could . . ." her voice faded away. But she returned to the process with renewed vigor.

What she didn't realize was that Garfield had his own agenda for Raven to have a legal identity.

It had taken months, the intervention of Batman, and a literal act of Congress, but the day came when Raven stood, blushing maroon as her friend applauded, with a green card in her hand, legally defining her as a "resident alien," legally recognized and able to seek employment, travel, and sign contracts. All kinds of contracts.

* * *

Armed with her new Resident Alien status, Raven returned to the paperwork required for traveling to the EU with a vengeance. It was late one afternoon that she expressed her frustration with the entire process both loudly and with enthusiasm. Small dust motes drifted in the low-slanting beams of the sun as the day slowly wound to a close.

"I. Don't. Have. A. Surname," she'd said, irritated. "All these forms insist on one. Every time I fill one out, it bounces back and I have to write a justification. I shouldn't have to justify anything. I don't have a surname. I'm Raven!"

"You know," said Cyborg, "It's perfectly legal for you to just pick one. Find one you like, stand in front of a Judge, and he'll make it your name."

She glared at him. "Names don't work that way. They can't be taken, only given. I can't just take somebody else's name!"

Garfield looked over at her from where he was sitting by one of the computer workstations. He was leaning back in the chair, almost reclining. One leg was hooked over an arm of the chair and he slumped there with practiced ease. He pivoted on the chair.

"Really," he said. "Is that how it works?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Raven's glare shifted from Cyborg to Garfield. She was in no mood for his "humor" this afternoon.

"Names have the power to define us. It is from our names we draw our identities. They make a deep contribution to who we are. Just taking one would be like . . . identity theft.

Garfield sat motionless, like a predator that had just smelled prey on the wind. He leaned forward, clearly listening, and just as clearly amused.

Cyborg grew still. Something was up. He could tell that Changeling was Up To Something.

"He's probably pranking Raven. I hope he's up for the consequences," he thought.

"Okay Raven," Garfield continued. "Can just anyone give you a name? Or does it have to be your parents?"

She frowned at him. She could hear the note of anticipation in his voice, but his face was utterly open, no smile or smirk to be seen.

"You're serious?" she asked. "Ok, fine. Names come from people who are spiritually significant to us. Most often our parents. Azar could have named me if she'd chosen to. Starfire could have gotten a name from the Warlords of Okarra. Batman could have named Nightwing. And so on."

Starfire saw it now. There was something about the tone of Garfield's voice. She grew quiet, watching. Nightwing went to speak, but Starfire grabbed his hand and squeezed, effectively shushing him.

Garfield's form unfolded from the chair. He caught Raven's eye. "Okay," he said lightly. "I'll give you one."

Raven's head jerked back. "You?" she said, raising her eyebrows. She cocked one hip and put her fist on it.

"Yeah," he said, thrusting his jaw forward. His posture delivered a challenge. "Me."

The Changeling slowly stalked across the room, placing his feet with the surefooted confidence of predator hunting on its home ground. Like a stalking tiger. Or a panther, perhaps. Raven could feel something in the air now. Something was clearly "up."

"Probably one of his stupid pranks," she thought. "Ok, fine. I can go along with a joke. But he's going to pay for this later."

He stalked right up to Raven, almost purring. His grin was only visible in the muscles at the corners of his jaw. He stood in front of her, literally toe to toe. This close it was clear just how much taller he was than she. He towered over her tiny frame. She looked up at him, craning her neck. Her lavender hair streamed back over her ears as she looked up. He looked her square in the eye.

"I was thinking," he said quietly, "of 'Logan' as a surname for you."

Raven snorted delicately. "Don't be ridiculous. 'Raven Logan' sounds absurd. And besides, if I had the same surname as you, people would think we were . . ."

Raven's voice trailed off. She blinked. Her face went ashen as the blood drained away from it. Garfield leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then forcefully, brining his right hand up to cup the back of her head and pressing her body firmly against his with his left hand in the small of her back. Without thinking, she kissed him back. After about ten seconds he stepped away. Raven swayed, staring.

"I seem to have caught you by surprise," he said smugly. "Think on it, will you?"

He turned and walked confidently from the room, his hips rolling slightly like a male panther on the prowl.

"What," asked Cyborg after the door had closed behind him, "was that all about?"

Raven sat down, plopping herself into a chair without any grace at all, her hand groping blindly for her tea mug.

* * *

Nevermore: Raven's mindscape.

Intellect blinked. "Didn't see that one coming."

She turned and looked at Wisdom. "You?"

Wisdom replied, "Nope. Caught me completely by surprise. What do we think?"

She turned and looked at the pink-cloaked avatar, Happy.

"Well," Wisdom said, answering her own question. "We're certainly happy about it."

Happy was standing, flat-footed with an idiotic grin on her face. She was staring out into the silver star field that was the sky above Nevermore, unblinking. There was a tiny line of drool glistening at the corner of her mouth.

"When do you think we will get _her_ back?" asked Intellect.

"No idea," replied Wisdom.

Valor spoke, "I say, 'no guts, no glory.' Let's say yes!"

"Hey," said Sloth, "I've wanted to get our claws in him and never let go since the beginning. How much work would it be to find another one who would put up with all of our shit?"

"No!" barked Rage. "This is just one of his stupid pranks. If we say yes, he'll back out or laugh at us."

"Um," Agape began, "Didn't we jump to just that conclusion the first time he asked us out? Didn't we end up looking like a total shrieking harpy over it?"

"It was," said Intellect primly, "The rational thing to do at the time."

"And besides," growled Rage, "He'd put a whoopee cushion under us at breakfast only the day before. It took Cyborg an hour to stop laughing!"

"He hasn't done anything like that in years," said Intellect.

"But," said Timid, "If he really is just kidding, it'll really hurt."

Wisdom spoke, "He cannot really want to marry us. He only thinks he does. After all, we cannot provide him with 'cubs.'"

"True," said Intellect. "We are utterly incompatible that way."

"I concur," said Wisdom. But we needn't concern ourselves about that sort of thing until we confirm that he is not 'just kidding.'"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Jump City . . .

"Raven," said Nightwing, "What's wrong. You look, um, well, paler. Are you okay?"

"He . . ." she said, "I think, maybe . . . I . . . he just proposed."

Starfire burst into cheers, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands.

"Oh Friend Raven," she said, "this is wonderful. We shall get you a dress with a long train and thousands of the pearls of seed. And you shall have a tiara! And the high heels! And the bachelorette party! We shall gather all of our friends that are girls and drink intoxicants while observing the gyrations of scantily clad human males while making comments of the inappropriate kind!"

"Slow down, Starfire," said Raven. "I'm pretty sure he was just joking. He can't seriously want to marry me."

"Raven," said Cyborg, "He wouldn't kid about something like that."

"He just _can't,"_ Raven muttered. She rose and headed for the elevators, not trusting herself to be centered enough to levitate down to the ground.

She found him at his spot on the rocks. He turned to watch her approach, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Made up your mind already?" he asked.

"Not really," she replied. "First I have to ask, no offense, you're not serious, are you? I mean, you're just kidding, right?"

He cocked his head to one side, clearly puzzled.

"Raven," he answered after a moment, "Some things are too important for 'funny.' And what's ridiculous about 'Raven Logan?' It sounds perfectly find to me."

"Changeling . . . Garfield . . . Beast Boy . . .. It's . . . it's been great between us. Especially these last few months. Fantastic, even. You've made me feel wanted and loved and . . . normal. I never thought I'd get to be _any _of those things. But you _can't _mean what you're saying. You _can't_ want to marry me," said Raven, flustered.

"Why not?" he asked.

Raven replied, "Look – since I joined the Titan's I've gotten . . . better at feeling and expressing emotion without leveling the landscape. But I'm never going to be a normal girl. I don't exactly light up a room."

His voice grew deeper, softer. "No," he answered, "you don't. You fill it with a dark and haunting beauty that calls to all men. And I'm sorry for them. 'Cause you're _mine._"

She blushed maroon and rolled her eyes.

"Stop it. You know what I mean. I'm no . . . Starfire."

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"No. You're not. If I wanted Starfire, I'd take her. You're who I want."

"Just like that, you'd take her from Nightwing? Confident, much?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He replied, "I won you. That does a lot for a man's confidence."

She tried again. "Look Gar, we both know I'm too dangerous to live with."

"What?" he asked, "I've lived with you for over a decade. And here I stand. Not only still alive, but only barely scarred."

Frustrated, she raised her voice. "I threw you out a window on the thirtieth story!"

"And here I stand. I can fly. You knew that at the time; you never would have done that if you'd thought it would really hurt me," he answered.

She snarled, "I sent you to the Third Plane of Outer Perdition!"

"And here I still stand. You came and got me."

She sputtered, and he took advantage of her distraction.

"Look," he said. "Sure. It's expensive to try and own an Ipod around you. And you've blown up more light bulbs that I can count. And if you add up all the mirrors you've broken since we moved into the Tower, you've got about eleventy jillion year's bad luck coming at some point. But you know what else? Over half of Cyborg is made of delicate, sensitive electronics. Not once it the past _decade _have you made him so much as blow a fuse. Nightwing's bike is _packed_ with gizmos to make it stable a high speed. You've never broken that. We've taken the T-ship into deep space and to the bottom of the ocean. It's not exactly a piece of simple engineering. And guess what? You didn't damage any of those things."

Raven just blinked.

"Face it Raven, you've got more control that you think you do, and you will never, ever convince me that you'll hurt someone you love."

She just swallowed. This was becoming entirely too real. So she played her trump card. This would fix it. It would all go away, and she wouldn't have to face this. She reached up to her throat and unbuckled her cloak, casting it aside.

"Garfield. You know that I'm not entirely human. But I don't think you fully appreciate what that means. What you see here is only a part of me. The part I choose to let you see. I have another form that's . . . just as much me as this body you see before you."

A shadow seemed to pass before the setting sun, and a cold wind swirled around Titan Island, whipping the sand up into tiny, painful dervishes. The quality of light somehow gained a purple tint. The breeze carried the scent of old glaciers, and brimstone. The birds and insects grew silent, and the sound of the waves lapping on the rocks got louder in the rising wind. And then Raven _changed._ She grew taller, but no broader, elongating into an eerie, almost skeletal figure. Pain shot through her as it always did with the _change_, as the second set of eyes opened in her forehead. Untainted by Rage, they were now all too human, and very sad. Her arms had lengthened, and somewhere along the way, her little fingers had vanished, leaving her with only three fingers and a thumb per hand. But each finger had four joints, and ended in an obsidian talon. Her whole body just looked . . . wrong. Disproportionate. Her torso tapered down to a writhing, roiling pool of darkness. She no longer had legs or feet that he could see, just an inky black pool the coiled in on itself restlessly. Her elbows had developed bony, sharp spurs.

Her face was the worst, though. It was Raven's face, and yet it was not. Her cheekbones had become so prominent that they were almost pointed. The flesh on her face seemed to vanish, leaving only battleship-grey skin stretched tightly over angular bone. Her chin tapered away beneath her mouth to a stubby point. When she opened her mouth to speak, the two rows of fangs glittered.

Her voice was a chorus of two clashing tones, neither resembling Raven's normal contralto. "This, Garfield Mark Logan, is what you propose to bind yourself to, now and for all time. Do you still want me, even now?"

She towered over him, her long shadow crossing his face and body, and streaming away into the east, the setting sun at her back. He'd stayed silent through her _change,_ squinting into the icy wind. He blinked, and waited politely.

"Well?" Her voice grated, the two voices grinding against each other.

"I was waiting for you to show me something I didn't know about," he said, "This is it? This is the big, bad, hairy, scary dark side of Raven? Seen it." He yawned, theatrically.

Both of her voices shrieked in anger. "How dare you joke?"

"Well, it's FUNNY." He looked up at her sincerely. "We've already been over this. No matter what form you're wearing, no matter how many psychic muscles you flex, no matter how many mean faces you make, you're not going to hurt me. I just don't believe it. But more importantly, get over yourself."

"What?"

"You think you're the only one who has a dark side they have to watch closely? Lady, I know scary."

He stepped forward, and his pupils shrank to pinpoints. Coarse hair sprouted from his thickening hide. He leaned over, his body swelling up, muscles shifting and expanding under his skin. His clothing vanished and his voice deepened.

"And I know far more about 'hairy' than you'll ever be able to understand." With the last words, his throat could no longer form clear words. His knuckles thudded into the ground like a gorilla. His jaw was enormous, thick, and very hard. The creature in front of her weighed at least a thousand pounds, and would have stood between nine and teen feet tall on its hind legs? Back feet? The back of its neck was protected by an enormous hump of muscle. Its claws were the size of railroad spikes, its fangs glittered white in the fading sunlight and shifting darkness around Raven. The head was leonine, but the creature moved in a vaguely apelike manner. Enormous muscles shifted under the green fur as it/he moved closer to the towering demon. It circled, a low rumble coming from its chest.

Raven had seen this form only four times before. Once when Changeling had taken it to defend her from the chemically enhanced Adonis, a second time when he had placed himself between Raven and Slade Wilson's demon army in a vain attempt to save her life, and the third when Changeling had needed to hold off an undead army, once again, to keep her alive, and finally on a battlefield on an alien world, when he'd taken it one more time to stand between her and an advancing army of homicidal lizards. He did not take this form casually, because when he did, his higher mental functions became dormant. He could not speak, and was concerned only with . . . primal things. Survival. Territory. Food. Mating. And when he assumed this form, he could never tell when he might change back.

The Beast shuffled closer, a confused expression on its/his face. Raven paused. Changeling would never hurt her. But this thing was bigger than a Kodiak bear, and was _not_ known for its gentle disposition. As it approached, she could smell its scent. It had a strong, musky, masculine odor. Not unpleasant, but noticeable. It/he leaned in and sniffed, twice. A brilliant toothy grin burst over it/his face, its fangs glittering. The form had changed, but the grin was unmistakable. It/he settled back on his haunches with a soft thump, apparently content to just sit there and be with her. Raven shifted back to her human form, watching the Beast carefully. The pool of roiling darkness slowly shrank as it became her feet and lower legs. Her body shrank back to its normal, petite height, and her fingernails returned to their normal blunt, practical cut. The Beast's eyes narrowed, and it/he leaned forward and inhaled. Grinning again, it/he sat back. It/he just watched her in turn as she picked up her cloak and turned back to it/him.

"Okay," she said. "Now what?"

She slowly reached out her hand to touch the Beast's face, and it/he rubbed its/his jowl along her hand and made a low, purring sound. She sighed audibly, causing the Beast to look up at her. Its/his eyes narrowed, and then closed. Slowly the massive form of the Beast melted away, leaving the Changeling crouching at her feet. He stood.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now you answer the question I asked you."

Then he just stood there, looking at her, clearly prepared to wait until the sun became a cold lump of coal the size of her forehead.

"I . . . I. . . "Before she had become a Titan, Raven had never been at a loss for words. But the longer she stayed with them, the longer she stayed with Garfield, the more often it happened.

He just waited.

"Yes."

* * *

Nevermore: Raven's Mindscape

Timid, Rage, Wisdom, and Intellect all lay on their bellies in the dirt at the center of Nevermore. Astride their backs were Agape, Eros, Filia and Brave. Each of the Avatars held one of the ones in the ground in a hold professional wrestlers called a "hammerlock." Sloth and Rude each held a hand over the mouth of Timid, Rage, Wisdom and Intellect.

"And that," said Eros, "Is that."

* * *

Raven's bachelorette party had been quite the event. Raven, of course, had wanted to just skip the whole thing, but Argent, flying in from New Zealand just for the event had been adamant.

"Mate, you're the first Titan girl to pull this off. Your celebration is going to set precent for Titan weddings for a generation. And when _my _ turn comes, I _want _a bachelorette party. Don't let the side down!"

Starfire, as Maid of Honor, should technically have been in charge of the arrangements, but as she had never even seen one, she deferred to Bumblebee. And Bumblebee's first step had been to bring in Batgirl to handle the security. For their own reasons, both Bumblebee _and_ Raven hadn't wanted the press anywhere near the party, so Batman's only female apprentice had gone all out. The party site was a temporary structure, an inflatable building, in fact, installed on an uninhabited island off of the California coast, about a 40 minute boat ride from Jump City. She'd carefully swept the island for electronic surveillance gear before, during, and after the installation of the building. Then she hired a local tour boat with an all female crew to ferry the party guest to and from what was beginning to be called "Pleasure Island." Raven began to grow concerned.

"Um, Starfire," she said, "I normally don't 'do' parties at all. This is beginning to sound really out-of-hand."

"Do not do the worrying. How bad can it be?"

The final guest list was women-only, almost all of them professional heros, with the occasionally villain on parole. The girls had been at the table going over the guest list when Raven though to mention Angel and Cheshire, then glanced over at Jinx.

"Angel and Cheshire are currently on parole and are keeping their noses clean," she thought. "And Rita's right. There aren't that many of us on the planet. I should make friends where I can."

And she kept her reservations to herself.

It was late afternoon when the _Spirit of Jump City_ pulled up to the dock at 'Pleasure Island." The guests had been making generous use of the cash bar aboard and the party was already in full-swing before the first line was cleated. Had there been a man present, and Barbara Gordon had eradicated every one for about forty miles, he would have been as perplexed as Raven. With no men around, why dress hotter than a two-dollar pistol?

"Because," said Bumblebee, "Women may dress to _attract_ men, but they also dress to _impress_ other women. In fact, some girls don't bother with their 'A' game unless there are other women around."

Argent, in black and red, of course, was rocking a form-fitting knit mini-dress that broke about six inches short of paradise, and she was typical. Bumblebee wore gold pants and a tunic that broke just below the crack of her ass, but the pants were silk, and so tight that you could see the muscles in her ass as she danced. Batgirl, needing to maintain a secret ID, wore her black cowl with her mass of auburn hair tumbling out the back. But it matched the Little Black Dress, four inch heels, and silk stockings with the seam running up the back. Raven stared bemused at the parade of tight-fitting designer brand clubwear disembarking from the boat.

"Maybe I should get out more often," she remarked to Starfire who stood nearby. "I'm feeling a bit like a daisy in a rose bush."

Raven wore her usual blue leotard, her usual blue cloak, and her usual blue elf-boots. Her sole concession to dressing up had been to add a pair of garnet earrings that matched her cloak pin and belt.

"I did tell you that you should do the dialing up of it up," Starfire replied.

"You know," Raven observed, "I never really noticed before, but we know an awful lot of beautiful women."

"Yes," said Starfire. "Our friends are 'the stacked.'"

Power Girl walked by on her way to the gangplank. Raven's head turned to follow her.

"I don't think that woman owns any clothes that don't show her cleavage."

The final step before disembarking would be to check your cell phone with Batgirl.

"Sorry ladies," she said, "Make memories, because there are going to be _no pictures!"_

Barbara Gordon's precautions had been very much in order. The party had been raucous, ribald, and had gotten quite out of hand. For starters, the girls had left the boat and immediately hit the open bar.

"Open bar?" Raven asked, "I don't have that kind of money!"

"Sweetie," said Bumblebee, "You're not paying. Starfire put up the cash."

Raven glared at Starfire.

"It was the least thing I could be doing," said the alien girl. "Since I didn't know how to do the throwing of the proper party, I gave Bumblebee and Batgirl the 'blank check.'"

"I'm not sure I'm going to forgive you for this," Raven muttered darkly as someone pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

By four o'clock, it wasn't pretty. The inflatable dome rocked with music, the DJ 'MC Honey' keeping the women worked up to a high-energy pitch. Then the strippers arrived.

"Strippers?" Raven gasped. "You hired _male strippers?"_

"Girl," said Bumblebee shrugged, "this is supposed to be your last hurrah. No expense was spared. Loosen up. Remember: what happens on Pleasure Island, stays on Pleasure Island."

Raven looked out from the "VIP Stand" over the crowd under the pulsing lights and throbbing music and muttered, "I don't think a case of chlamydia would stay here."

At one point in the evening Starfire, standing next to Raven, blinked in surprise as a conga line of female Titan auxiliaries mixed with _very _scantily clad make strippers danced by.

"I . . . I thought that humans, especially 'the Americans' were most 'uptight' about their sexuality. Perhaps I was mistaken."

Batgirl, swaying slightly, gave a delicate snort.

"Most puritan-type societies are cultures of shame, not cultures of guilt. If there was even one camera here, or they thought any of these guys would ever see them again, they'd behave entirely differently."

She swayed again. "You can almost smell the hypocrisy."

"It reminds me of the pre-battle celebrations on Tamaran," Starfire continued.

"Well," said Batgirl, "This _is _supposed to be Raven's 'last hurrah.'"

"Raven," said Starfire, "you don't seem to be doing the 'hurrahing.'"

Raven had, in fact, unbent enough to sip champagne into the evening, but only in tiny amounts. She'd been stone-blind paralytic drunk once before, and didn't care to repeat the experience.

"Garfield," she thought warmly, "was really great about that. And I wasn't grateful enough at the time. I'll make it up to him when we get back."

"So Raven," said Batgirl, "Any particular reason why you're being so chaste? I mean, you're the guest of honor. I'm sure that one of those . . ."

Batgirl gestured across the room to where Powergirl was stretching the g-string of one of the dancers dangerously close to its design parameters.

". . . gentlemen would be very happy to take you back to the green room for a 'private showing,' if you know what I mean."

Raven sipped on her champagne again and blinked a couple of times. She was feeling a little warm and slightly impulsive. She raised an eyebrow.

"There's no venus flytraps at the door."

Batgirl shook her head.

"Wha – what? What do you mean?"

Raven smirked. "It wouldn't be the first time that Changeling was a literally a fly on the wall someplace I thought he had no business being."

Batgirl froze. "Oh shit, you're right. He doesn't use any electronics. He could be _anywhere! _Do you think . . .?"

Raven shook her head. "Actually, no. I don't think he's here. For reasons I don't entirely understand, he trusts me absolutely. I won't violate that."

"That's really sweet," slurred Batgirl. The cosmopolitans were really starting to go to her head.

Raven snorted. "That's the first time anyone's ever called me sweet. And it's not the real reason."

"No?" said Starfire. "Then do the spilling, friend that is a girl."

Closing her eyes and setting down her champagne flute, Raven said, "He touches every part of me."

"Thass sweet," said Batgirl again.

"No," said Raven. She opened her eyes and peered at Batgirl. Then she deliberately placed her hands on the tabletop, palms facing each other, about a foot apart.

Raven repeated. "He. Touches. Every. Part. Of. Me."

Batgirl blinked. "Huh? Oh. OH!"

Raven leaned forward conspiratorially.

"He plays my nervous system like a Fender Stratocaster. He can make my heart race or almost stop with the touch of his fingers. He can make me scream with pleasure or beg for mercy. He knows how to lead me forcefully and when to touch me gently. And it can do it All. Night. Long. Or in 15 minutes."

"Wow," said Batgirl, wobbling a little. "That sounds . . . sounds great."

"You do the knowing of it, friend-that-is-a-girl." Starfire threw back her fifth Tom Collins of the night.

"So," Raven continued quickly, "If you think I'd risk all of that just for an impersonal sample of the renta-beefcake over there, you are out of your rope-swinging mind."

Raven grinned, looking extremely smug.

Batgirl looked again at how widely spaced Raven's hands were and had a thought.

"Hey," she said, "Looking at Starfire. How would _you_ know?"

Raven closed her eyes again, this time in exasperation.

"Accept her for who she is," Raven thought as she scrambled mentally to respond.

But Batgirl had already made the leap to the next not entirely inaccurate conclusion. She looked at Raven's hands a third time and then up at her face.

"Oh," she said with some enthusiasm. "You _share!_"

Raven's hands clenched into fists.

"Starfire is my Very. Best. Friend. Sometimes people will do things for their very best friends that they won't do for any other human being alive. My. Very. Best. Friend had an existential crisis that was literally a matter of live and death. She took a liberty that _no one else in the world_ would get away with."

The air around Raven grew dark. The sound of the dance music somehow seemed very far away. Her eyes glowed with eldritch fire. There was a slight rumble like that of distant thunder. Batgirl felt the center of gravity shift slightly under her feet. Reflexively her hand dropped to the waist of her mini-dress, but found no grapnel, no batarang, and no utility belt at all. She swallowed and then held up a hand.

"Woah, Raven," she said, "I was just askin'. I wasn't planning on poaching. No harm, no foul, right?"

The air around Raven cleared immediately. The dark girl looked curiously at her champagne flute.

"Right," Raven replied. "Sorry. I think maybe I've had more of this stuff that I should."

"S'okay," said Batgirl, blearily. "I lurve you, man."

The women embraced.

It was just before dawn that the crew of the _Spirit of Jump City_ cheerfully showed up with wheelbarrows and loaded an extremely damaged corps of super-hero ladies aboard and ferried them to Titan Island. Late the next morning, they began to stir.

Raven awoke first. She pried her eyes open and looked out the big picture window.

"Why am I sleeping in the common room? Oh, right."

She squinted her eyes shut against the sunlight.

"It could be worse, I guess."

Raven stumbled toward the sink, to find a bowl of aspirin, about twenty sparkling clean classes, and several large pitchers of cool water laid out.

Gratefully she grabbed the analgesic and washed it down with two glasses of water. She looked around the room again. Not very elegant. Someone had made sure that the women had made it safely into the Tower, but nothing more. Titan girls were scattered all over the room like windblown leaves in autumn, the colorful club wear like fallen leaves. Raven shook her head. They weren't nearly as hot in this condition. Skirts rucked up messily, limbs askew wherever they had collapsed, and makeup smeared with sweat the Titan women were not very appealing, that and the snoring. Raven drank some more water and headed to her room. She didn't get up again until almost lunchtime.

Slightly nauseous, but still in need of food, Raven returned to the common room, to find most of her guests in varying degrees of "awake." After a high-carb, low-grease brunch, Raven's head cleared enough to notice something.

"Hey," she said to the room at large, "Where are the men?"

But they were nowhere to be found.


	62. Bros on the Road

Author's Notes:

Shout-Outs:

Guest – Oh, I'm WAAAY out of the comics loop, myself. Been a _very_ long time since I bought a new one. I picked up a Teen Titans omnibus as a reference for this project, and that's all I've read in more time than a bunch of my readers have been alive. Yeah – got it in one. I wrote the proposal sequence, including Raven's coming out, months ago. But, we did have a Slade battle. It was all the way back in Chapter 8 – Like Ripping Off a Band-AidTM. But yeah, that was a bit of a cop-out. I couldn't think of anything else that would snap Nightwing out of his funk, and I didn't want to spend another entire chapter focused on Dick and Kori, as this isn't their story and they've gotten, like fifty thousand words (so far). So I kinda slid over it.

Shadico – Eh, Raven just likes to think she's a pragmatist instead of a romantic. I had great fun setting her up to get slapped with a giant wet fish upside the head last chapter. I really enjoyed writing the conversation among Rae, Kori, and Babs. Women in groups normally run down their men, but if you catch them at just the right time, they'll start bragging.

Dead Bones Sam – Funny you should mention that. People have seen it coming from a mile away, so it's not exactly a spoiler. Yeah – bachelor party. But it may be a little different that people expect.

Promises of Freedom – Got it in one, Dude.

Lover of a Good Story – Goodness, gracious me. The pictures you paint with your words. Is it warm in here? (Besides, Raven and Kori don't even _like_ each other that way.) Fun picture to contemplate, though, isn't it? But, I fear not. It would make some people's head's just go all acksplodey.

Otaku – Actually, I've never seen it. Stateside it was titled "The Hangover," and I only saw trailers for it back in '90. Used to be a big film buff, but haven't had time for it in decades. Only saw the Potter flicks in the theater, and the Bond films. Don't fret. I can bear up under your hate. As long as you keep reading. (Or am I just messing with you?) New Chapter shortly.

JasonVUK – If you need pictures to get the true image, I didn't write my word pictures well enough. Maybe someday I will go back and dress it up some more. But for now: onward! Onward! I enjoyed writing the proposal as much as you enjoyed reading it. I think I did a better job with the same scene in "Raven's Wedding," though.

Anbu-Nightfury – Well, I hope you're not disappointed.

JOHNXGambit – I like the word pictures you draw. You thought my proposal scene was creepy? Wow. I spun that _all_ wrong.

Guest - Well, if all the women are busy, passed out, or hung over due to bachelorette party, how would _you _take advantage of that? Nudge, nudge, wink. (More lemons? But – we KNOW what happens when the lights go dim and the door closes. Do we really need MORE of those?)

Krostovikraven1 – Glad you liked the proposal. I hope you enjoy my take on his bachelor party. Cyborg's the best man, so he's responsible for the planning. Oh, and your passion is duly noted. (You're not a minor, right? Kidding.)

Randamwriter – Nosebleed? I hope that's in a good way. Beastboy's bachelor party is going to be . . . different.

Justafly – Glad I was useful for your pond-hop. Yeah, one of the points in this project has been to take old tropes and do my own take on them, but the other is to take other peoples scenes and see if I can execute them in a different way.

I'm not surprised that you perceive the character interactions to be less smooth. The first thirty or forty chapters just poured out as fast as I could type. That's one reason for the cesspit of grammar, spelling, and homophonic errors. I was trying to keep up with my muse. Since then I've had to wring out my keyboard to get anything out of it. It's not moving as fast or as smoothly, and that's reflected in the prose. Overkill? Heh. I'll have you know that the interaction among Raven, Starfire, and Batgirl actually happened. I was a perimeter guard at an all-female sweat lodge about ten years ago. I couldn't hear the start of the conversation, but as the alcohol kicked in, they got loud. The newlywed started bragging on her husband and it sounded almost identical to the conversation I wrote. Yeah, I've had an interesting life.

Chowbo – Maybe. Maybe not.

Theforceisstrongwiththisone – She isn't afraid of losing him _at all_. As to "being caught" vs "doing the right thing," that was my fault. I wanted to use the "fly on the wall" reference and make Batgirl feel a little less confident. AND I wanted to do the drunken "Sex In the City" conversation. I shouldn't have mixed the two concepts. Either one would have been stronger by itself, but the two rob each other of their merit.

Lord Vukodlak – Got it in one. Of course, Gar's bachelor party is going to be more . . . intimate than Raven's.

DJMax340 – Yeah, that one came out pretty quick. I wasn't enjoying myself on Tamaran, and it was work to slog through it. Once I got back on earth it came easier.

Guest – Actually, I have two short story concepts in my head, so there will be more BB/Rae from me in the near future, but I will have to finish some of my original work and get it on the market before I can do much more of this. A _more_ elaborate party? Thirty or forty drunken women, most of them with superpowers, loud hip-hop, and Barbara Gordan asking Raven if she'd share? And you want _more?_ Man, I want an invitation to _your_ bachelor party! Actually, not that I know of. I've never seen "The Hangover/A Very Bad Trip."

Tatsumarusmith – I shall endeavor not to disappoint. Glad you liked it.

Hairul The Nightage Beast – Don't get the Black Label reference. Sorry.

Egg1 – Sorry. Did the best I could. I'm glad to be done with Tamaran and Dick and Kori as well. Shouldn't ever have gone there. Too much of Starfire in that venue. Will know better next time. But I've already done one wedding!

DNC ELEETS – Glad to hear from you. I try to respond to everybody. I hope Changeling's bachelor party doesn't disappoint.

Charlizard777 – Glad you liked it, but with God as my witness, I don't know what "Hell I'm gonna live" reference your talking about.

Seas of Sorrow – They didn't complain much about a dominant Changeling. The ladies simply didn't enjoy the Lemon. I had a femBud of mine read it, and she said, "Sex is mostly in women's heads. Your treatment was very _male._ All physical. The women are disappointed because they didn't get to see what was going on inside the character's heads." That's just one woman's opinion, but it was the most constructive criticism I got. _More_ RobStar? But they've already gotten like fifty thousand words in a BBRae storyline! Yours is the second Kidflash/Jinx request I've gotten. And I dunno. I enjoy writing Wally, but I really don't know him, and I don't know Jinx at all. My treatment of the characters would be very different that what most people would expect. Huh – I thought those hints weren't so spoily. I'll have to give it more care. You'll forgive me if I don't reference _any _ engorged organs, though.

Warlordmega – I can never really tell where I will end up when I start a chapter. I usually have a general idea, but often I end up places I never planned. And I certainly never planned on Trigon showing up a Raven's wedding. We'll see.

Kmarie – Glad you liked it. If I've made you happy, mad, and laughed, I've entertained, and that was the goal.

Guest – I will serve no update before its time. But the time is getting close.

Psomater – Nice to hear from you. I like to think that Changeling and Raven have both grown up nicely and in a believable direction.

* * *

Author's Notes – Looking close by, it's no surprise. This chapter is all about Changeling's bachelor party. You guys are expecting a lot, and I'm not sure I'm going to deliver. I've gone in a completely different direction. Cyborg has been selected as his best man, but he is to be attended by Nightwing and Kid Flash as well. Accordingly, they are taking a road trip together, the last one they can take as all bachelors. The elders, Batman, Robotman, and Mento will have a role to play as well. Looking a little farther down the road, well, there's not much road left. It's my intent to attempt another wedding scene and maybe a honeymoon. I'll then throw in some angst and drama that I don't want to telegraph too soon, and we'll be done except for the bonus features.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"I do."- Lamont Cranston

* * *

It was in the late predawn hours outside Titan tower. False dawn had already come and gone, and the mountains to the east were black waves against the deep purple of the horizon. It was hard to discern details in the scene, but two cars sat at the foot of the Tower. The first was the distinctive T-Car, known throughout Jump City and up and down the West Coast as Cyborg's "Baby." The other was distinctive, but slightly more nondescript, all in black. The finish shined in the dim pre-morning light. One by one, mysterious figures emerged from Titan Tower. The first and largest walked up to the T-Car and spoke.

"Hotspot, Wildebeest, you're going to miss out on the biggest of the festivities, but I've tried to make up for it. You have an expense account to entertain you in L.A., Tijuana, and Cabo San Lucas. Do your sacred duty for the Man of the Hour. Be seen often and in public. And, um, don't scratch the car."

Wildebeest snorted and Hotspot smiled. "We're on it."

The T-Car roared off, heading south, the sound of its exhaust rapidly fading away under the sound of the waves in the Bay lapping at the island shore.

Cyborg strode over to the other car, turned to face the incipient dawn, and donned his sunglasses. Two others joined him. Each man wore a black suit, white button down shirt, black tie, and nondescript trench coat. They fairly screamed "incognito." As he took his position next to the chariot, each man turned his back, and put on his sunglasses. The last, and smallest joined the formation, donned his shades and stopped. He turned around and looked closely at the car.

"Dude," he said, looking over at Nightwing, "It's not!"

The right corner of Nightwing's mouth lifted, ever so slightly.

Cyborg spoke. "It is. Nightwing has obtained the one and only 1955 Lincoln Futura. Only one was ever made. They used it for a concept car and show car. Batman acquired it in 1960 for the sum of one dollar and 'other valuable considerations.' It was the base chassis for his original work."

Changeling walked around the car grinning and peering at the features. It was glossy black, with exaggerated headlight pods, a double clear-plastic canopy top, and very large, outward canted tailfins. The scarlet bat logos had been removed from the doors, but the matching highlighting and flashes remained.

He looked over at Nightwing again.

"Dude, you _didn't!_"

"Oh, I did," Nightwing replied. "But don't get too excited. It's just a loan, for this road trip. She's come straight from storage, and I guarantee you, _nobody's_ put a tracker on her where _she's_ been sleeping, and _no one_ is going to think to look for her on the road. She hasn't seen asphalt since '69, and her like is not to be seen today. I told Batman what Cyborg was planning for you, and this is his contribution. Gentlemen, I present - the original, one, true _Batmobile. _Accept no substitutes."[1]

There was a short round of 'golf clap applause' and the men piled into the vehicle, with Changeling in the seat of honor. Nightwing took shotgun.

"Man, this takes me back," he said, grinning.

"Buckle up, gentlemen," said Garfield.

"He isn't kidding," said Cyborg. "The '55 Futura didn't come with airbags."

"Airbags hell," said Nightwing, "Seatbelts were optional back then."

Garfield looked over at Nightwing. "Um, Nightwing, I know you're pretty much over it, but, just this once, would you do the honors?"

Nightwing looked at Garfield and pulled a face, then grinned. "What the hell. But I'm only gonna do it this _one time._"

He reached between the two bucket seats, leaned over, and threw the five bulky toggle switches, then turned to watch two analog gauges in front of the passenger seat.

"Okay. We've got a full tank of rocked fuel. Half a bag of munchies, its night, and we're wearing sunglasses. Atomic batteries to power! Turbines to speed!"

Nightwing pointed a finger straight ahead.

"Hit it!"

The classic engine roared, flames bellowed out of the huge central exhaust pipe as the nitro booster kicked in, and the _Batmobile_ thundered away from Titan Tower, scattering gravel in its wake.

* * *

The first leg for the _Batmobile _was a short one, though. Cyborg directed Changeling to the private airfield adjacent to the Jump City airport. At that hour of the morning, the quartet of Changeling, Nightwing, Cyborg, and Kid Flash were able to make it to the airfield in less than 20 minutes. They rolled onto the airfield where a Doom Patrol verti-jet waited, cargo ramp down. Again at Cyborg's direction, Changeling drove directly into the cargo bay and onto a waiting vehicle pallet. The wheel boot locks slammed into place. A man made entirely out of metal stepped into the cargo bay as the ramp began to close.

"Are we secured?" he asked.

"Hi Robotman," Nightwing answered. "I think so. Hotspot and Wildebeest have taken the decoy car on an obvious road trip south. I swept the _Batmobile_ for unauthorized electronics, and all of the women are currently passed out or hung over. I estimate that the most conservative of them won't be functional until at least four o'clock in the afternoon. If we're not secure, we've at least got a damn good head start."

"Excellent," said Robotman. "Mento has taken Rita to Paris. She's scheduled for a spa day, shopping, the theater, more shopping, and a tour of Versailles with a descendant of the Bourbons. She'll know he's up to something, but she should be too distracted to butt in until it's over. I'll be the designated pilot so that you boys don't have to stay sober and awake all the time. Head up to the cabin and strap in."

The accommodations aboard the Doom Patrol verti-jet were as Spartan as ever, but Robotman, or perhaps Mento, had added an accessory for Garfield's special day.

"Hello boys," said the Stewardess, "what are you drinking?"

She was blonde, and maybe 5' 6" tall, but it was hard to tell because of the retro stewardess outfit she was wearing. White silk stockings, dark blue short shorts, and a powder blue crop top that looked spray painted on, topped off by a tiny pilot's cap perched atop her blond curls at a jaunty angle.

"I'm Alicia, and I'll be tending bar for the next three days. What'll ya have?"

"Well," said Cyborg, "I think I could stand an eye-opener, but just one. We've got a busy day ahead, and I'm driving. Bloody Mary's all around."

"You got it," she winked.

As the men settled in, Alicia served the drinks. The jet powered up and began to lift.

Robotman's voice sounded over the intercom. "Engaging stealth mode. Las Vegas, here we come."

After everyone had drinks in hand, Alicia served the food.

"Woah," said Wally, "Hot wings? For breakfast?"

"This," said Cyborg seriously, "Is a man-weekend. We eat and drink what we want. If it's bad for us, tough. We'll die like men."

Garfield looked at his bowl of wings and considered. On the one hand, he'd gone lacto-ovo for years now, with the occasional actual meat when he'd needed the extra protein. But this much animal protein would make him sick, since he wasn't used to it. He sighed.

"Sorry," he said to Alicia. "I'm a vegetarian."

Alicia smiled at him and said, "Look closer."

He peered at the wings and grinned. "Pressed saitan shaped like hot wings! Cool!"

Cyborg sucked the flesh off of a chicken wing leaving nothing but polished bone behind. He belched and then said, "I am your Best Man, BB. This weekend it's our job to take care of you. Just relax, we've covered everything."

After a short, high-speed flight, Cyborg conferred briefly with Robotman and Alicia while Changeling and Nightwing carefully backed the _Batmobile_ down the cargo ramp.

"We'll refuel, re-supply, and clean up while you guys are in town. Call me if you need us, but we'll just crash at the airport hotel tonight. We can be wheels-up in 20 minutes if you need to make a quick getaway ahead of any . . . legal entanglements."

Cyborg handed Alicia two hundred-dollar bills.

As the young men's car pulled away Alicia remarked, "What a _nice_ bunch of guys."

"Those young men," Robotman replied, "have been in service to others their entire lives. It's good to see them having a little fun for once."

Alicia squealed as a cold metal hand patted her right buttock.

"Me, on the other hand, I was something else before I was a hero," he finished.

"Hands off! I'm not that kind of hostess!"

Robot man grinned, "Relax doll, I didn't really think so."

He turned and headed for the fuel truck.

* * *

Changeling sat on the heavy leather seat, trying to relax. He'd never been in this kind of environment before. Like many young men, he'd been curious about places like this since puberty. But once he started dating, he'd been too embarrassed to go by himself. Somebody might find out. He looked over at Cyborg.

"Raven," he said, "Would be pissed. She'd say I was being immature and selfish."

Cyborg sighed. "This weekend has nothing to do with Raven. This weekend is about celebrating you, your manhood, your youth, and who you've been. It'll be okay. You're using solid protection. And besides, what Raven doesn't know, won't hurt her."

Garfield grinned. "You're right," he said, and slammed the hard hat onto his head.

He shifted gears, let out the clutch, and the great diesel engine roared. Cyborg jumped clear as the bulldozer moved out and its blade dug into the gravel pile at the bottom of the pit.

The men spent the next four hours amid the roar of engines and the smell of dust and exhaust. Sometimes competing, sometimes co-operating, the four of them moved roughly 500 tons of dirt and gravel from one side of the pit to the other. Taking turns, they each got to operate a bulldozer, skid loader, back hoe, grader, and steam shovel. But all good things must come to an end. At around lunchtime, Cyborg blew an air horn.

"That. Was. Awesome," declared Changeling.

* * *

"Okay," said Wally, "What's next?"

Nightwing spoke. "Okay guys, we need to be really, really discreet about this next stop. Nevada is one of the few places we can do this sort of thing legally, and Batman would _seriously_ disapprove if he found out. I've paid cash, so there will be no paper trail."

"I know, man," said Cyborg. "Don't worry; we'll keep it on the down-low." Remember, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

The other men all nodded solemnly.

The business was outside of Las Vegas. In fact, it was over the county line. The _Batmobile _had had to turn off of the paved road and then turn off of the gravel road to get to the business. The classic vehicle crunched to a stop in a well-maintained gravel lot. The building was nothing much to look at. It was just a nondescript pre-fab building on a concrete pad. There were no neighbors nearby to intrude. Changeling looked around eagerly. It was cool and dim inside the "entertainment facility." What they sold here was illegal within the city limits, even in freewheeling Las Vegas.

Nightwing spoke quietly to the manager, and a pretty young women dressed all in black led the men to a private room.

Changeling sniffed the air. It didn't smell particularly good in here, but given the type of activity that went on here day in and day out, he didn't expect it to smell of fresh flowers and open fields.

"Okay boys," said the hostess with a professional smile. "What's it going to be?"

"Oh," said Cyborg, "we're going to want the works, everything you can do. It's my number one bro's bachelor party. His bride is the type to keep a close eye on him once they're hitched, so show him your very best time!"

She grinned. "Okay, then. I can handle that. Is it going to be one of you at a time or all of you together?"

"We've been a team for a long time," said Nightwing, "and with the wedding, that's going to change forever. So we want to be a team a little longer. We want you to take us to the back all at once!"

The young woman's face got serious.

"Ok," she said. "I'm willing to do that, but . . . . I've recognized you guys. I know what you do for a living. You're really, really tough, and I'm just a normal girl. I want you to _promise_ me that you'll be extra careful not to get me hurt."

The men all nodded and she led them into the dimly lit back room. She smiled and gestured toward a table at the far end of the room. The light glittered on the metallic surfaces.

"Right boys – choose your weapons. And don't worry. You'll be able to switch places and try everything. You've booked me for all afternoon. Don't forget: protection is mandatory."

"Okay, Gar," said Cyborg, "You're the guest of honor. You pick first!"

Changeling looked at the array of "toys" on the table, then up at the hostess. He licked his lips, suddenly dry. He was a pretty experienced man of the world at this point, but he'd never paid anyone to be allowed to do this before.

"I think," He said, "I'll start with the Uzi."

"I wanna try that classic tommy gun with the drum magazine," said Cyborg.

"The IsraeliArms Desert Eagle .44 magnum for me," said Nightwing.

"Waddaya got that's _fast?" _asked Wally.

The men spent the rest of the afternoon firing exotic guns, shredding target after target. They took occasional breaks to drink and snack, and talk excitedly about the different weapons and their characteristics. Eventually Wally spoke.

"Okay guy, time to get back to town. We're staying at the Excalibur, and we've just got time to make it to the show!"

The evening had been briefly interrupted when they got to the Four Corners. Four Corners is the intersection of Tropicana and Las Vegas Boulevard on the Las Vegas Strip. Four of the largest resort complexes in the city are here, the Excalibur, The Tropicana, the New York-New York, and the MGM Grand Las Vegas. Garfield goggled. It was really something to see. 6,852 rooms in the MGM Grand alone. The total accommodations of the four buildings are upwards of 14,000 rooms. Perhaps the most fascinating part of it all, though, is the 9/11 Memorial. Shortly after the attack, people had begun to bring tokens and place them on the plaza in front of the New York-New York. Baffled, the staff at the New York-New York had disposed of them, at first, but eventually assembled a memorial instead. The four men stood, looking at the preserved mementoes of the attack.

"I guess . . ." said Changeling, "we can't save _everbody._"

"Even Superman's got limits," said Wally. "Nobody can be in more than one place at a time. Sometimes, the bad guys are going to win."

Nightwing just sighed.

So all in all, it was a bad time for the gang of robbers to try to pull off a daring sunset robbery of all four casinos at once. They were well-financed, well-trained, and had planned the heist to the last second. They just hadn't realized that they were trying to pull it off right in the middle of the Changeling's bachelor party.

As the first of the explosions went off, Cyborg frowned. "These guys are seriously harshing my mellow."

He looked over at Nightwing. "You packin'?"

Nightwing produced his collapsible staff and a fistful of grenades. "Always," he said flatly.

Fifteen minutes later, the Titan men were helping LVPD load the thirty or so unconscious thugs into paddy wagons.

"Thanks for the help, gentlemen," said the arresting officer. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Just who are you."

Nightwing opened his mouth to reply, but Changeling adjusted his sunglasses and spoke.

"They call us," he said, stone-faced, "The Men In Black."

They made it to the Excalibur in time for the show. Cyborg and Robin smiled tolerantly as they watched their young friend drink mead and eat tofu turkey legs. He got wired cheering for the knights jousting below.

"Best. Day. Ever." Said Changeling as he collapsed across the king-sized bed in the top-floor suite.

"Get plenty of sleep. We've got another day tomorrow, and it starts early," Cyborg replied, closing the door.

* * *

Morning did, in fact, come early, but they didn't leave before dawn this time. Cyborg let them sleep in until the _entire_ disc of the sun was over the horizon.

Sleepy, but not hung over, the four men gathered for the rooftop breakfast buffet and watched the sun rise over the city as they ate.

"What's up for today?" Changeling asked.

"Today," Cyborg said, "we're going to bring things down a bit."

Two hours later, Robotman was landing the vertijet in a clearing about two miles from the Copper River, Alaska. There they met Joe, their guide. Joe was a young man, mid-twenties, his jet black hair pulled back in a single braid at the top of his neck. His eyes were like chips of obsidian, but his smile was infectious, and immediately brought an answering grin to Changeling's face.

"Welcome to Alaska," he said. "Here's the deal. I'm going to lead you overland for three miles to my secret salmon ladder over on the Copper River. The whole kit you need is there waiting on you. You've got all morning, and I've even got a cooler of beer. But that's all. To have lunch, you have to catch it!"

He grinned again.

"You're on!" said Changeling.

The four men changed into jeans, boots, and flannel shirts over T's for the hike. After a liberal coating of bug spray and sunscreen, they set off on foot. The hike wasn't hard, and they made pretty good time.

After about a half-hour, Joe remarked, "You know, you move pretty good for a bunch of city-boys."

Cyborg winced. "Aw man, I wish you hadn't said that."

Changeling's head whipped around. "Who you callin' a city boy?"

Joe laughed again. "It's no shame to be a native of your home. I'd feel just as out of place in Jump City as you do here."

Changeling's eyes narrowed. "Who says I feel out of place?"

"Aw, c'mon BB, he didn't mean to offend. He doesn't know any better."

"I bet you I can get to your 'secret' fish ladder faster than _you_ can, and I can do it _without _directions!"

"Here we go," muttered Wally.

The guide's eyes narrowed, his pride stung. "If you can beat me to the fish ladder, there will be no charge for today's service!"

Changeling grinned, and flickered into the shape of a gigantic wolf.

"Dude," said Cyborg with exasperation, "not cool."

Joe shouted, "Amarok!" and staggered backwards, tripping and falling onto his backside.

The huge animal leaned forward and extended its emerald green nose to Joe's jeans and sniffed once. The wild-eye guide crab-walked backwards some more. Changeling bounded away, his nose to the ground.

Joe looked over at Cyborg, wild-eyed. "Amarok! I never thought I'd actually _see_ one! Did you know? You are friends with Amarok? What am I talking about, this is the 21st century. What the hell _is _that?"

Cyborg answered, "What's Amarok?"

"It's the trickster god of my people. Some say he devours those foolish enough to hunt by night. I thought he was just a cultural metaphor. And nobody ever said he was _green._"

The man stared off across the wooded landscape where Changeling occasionally flashed into view, heading toward the river.

Wally laughed, "Changeling's about as far from a god as anyone's going to get. He's just a man, a man who had an accident as a small boy that gave him the power to turn into animals. Except they are always green."

Cyborg got the little group moving again as they explained the nature of Changeling's powers. And his person.

"So – you're telling me that he's not a god, but he _is_ a skin-changer? Really?"

The group arrived at Joe's fish ladder to find Changeling lolling in a hammock, drinking a beer.

"I was gonna put on waders and be fishing by the time you guys started straggling in, but I don't know how to work the rod and reel."

Joe just blinked, and then quietly began breaking out the fishing gear.

"He Joe," said Cyborg, "I'm not holding you to Changeling's bet. You didn't have a chance, and so you're still gonna get paid."

Joe looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then grinned, and started moving a little faster. In a short while, all four men were a bizarre sight. All wearing black suits, ties, and sunglasses, but in waders, casting lures into the Copper River, trying to entice spawning salmon, who jumped around them, silver scales flashing in the sun.

It was about three hours later, which much beer had been consume, that Joe was heard to observe, "If you guys don't catch something soon, there'll be nothing but potato salad for lunch."

Changeling looked over.

Cyborg said to Joe, "You did it again."

Depositing rod and waders on the beach, Changeling looked at the other guys. "This has been fun, but I want some protein with my lunch. I'm gonna fish _my_ way now."

"Joe," said Nightwing, "you might want to back up."

Changeling flickered and turned into a grizzly bear.

"Damn," muttered Joe, "Aklark, too."

"Man, I _really_ need for you to meet my grandfather."

Changeling shrugged massively and waded out into the icy waters of the river near the top of the fish ladder. He crouched there for five minutes. Suddenly a silver salmon leaped out of the water almost directly over his shoulder. After about a half-hour, Changeling had harvested five large salmon, sufficient for the entire party to lunch on. The great bear waded out of the water to find the other men setting their waders out to dry and packing up the rest of the gear while Joe managed a large campfire. Nearby lay the five cleaned fish, ready to grill. Changeling's muscles rolled under his emerald fur. Cyborg caught the movement in the corner of his eye and shouted.

"Changeling, wait! Everybody – duck and cover!"

The three titans dove madly hither and yon, but Joe, caught by surprise gaped as Garfield shook his massive frame and gallons of cold river water, smelling of bear, were flung in all direction. When the chaos cleared away, the food, the fire, and the Titans were all still dry, but poor Joe had gotten about a gallon of bear water in the face and down his right side. He blinked, and blew water out of his nose.

"Sorry, dude," said Changeling, chagrined. "I always forget that part. It's instinctive to get rid of the water, and I never think to warn people."

But Joe accepted the cold-water assault with good humor, and soon there were fresh salmon steaks all around. Black pepper, a little lemon, and some parsley. Beer and potato salad rounded out the meal.

As the group hiked back across the terrain, Joe spoke quietly to Changeling.

"You handle a fishing rod with all the grace and precision of a blind crossing guard wielding an axe."

Garfield looked over at him. "Gee, thanks."

"Sorry, but my point is that in your bear form, you fish awesome. You might not be a god, but you understand things. You know things."

Changeling looked away, his eyes back on the horizon in front of him, looking for the verti-jet and Robotman.

"It's just instinct. I take the form, and the function follows."

"I would like to ask, if you would, if you would come and talk to my grandfather. He would very much like to learn from you. Perhaps you could learn from him as well."

"I dunno, I mean, I'm honored, of course, but I'm kinda busy right now."

"I know that you are to be wed. Perhaps when you have established your family?"

"Well, I'll think about it."

"Thank you."

* * *

The verti-jet winged its way southward, but not to Jump City. No, Cyborg had one more stop in mind. About an hour later, the _Batmobile's _turbines wound down outside yet another large, anonymous warehouse. This one was _enormous._ Over 33,000 square feet. The four men clambered out of the classic automobile, the gravel crunching under their feet.

"Okay guys, I've save the best for last. C'mon."

Cyborg led the team into the big industrial building. Inside the door was a large, well-appointed weapons store. The walls were covered with pistols, rifles, and various types of armor. The matte black weapons sat malignantly on the grey commercial display racks like vicious reptiles, ready to strike. Cyborg strode up to the counter.

"Smith," he said, "Party of four. The full monte."

"You've chosen wisely, Mr. Smith. You'll have full run of the facility for the first hour. Then the 'open' session begins, and there will be 200 people in there with you.

"Wait, what?" said Changeling.

Nightwing was examining the weapons on the walls.

"Nice pieces. Your people do good work."

"Thank you Mr. . . ?

"Jones."

"Thank you Mister Jones. If you will all head through here?"

The Changeling looked closer.

"Paintball? We're going to play paintball? Coool! I've never gotten to play paintball! We're always too busy!"

The four men were shown to a locker room where they stripped out of the Men in Black suits and put on body armor, a sort of cross between a jumpsuit and motocross armor. Each suit had a paintball gun, or "marker" to match. Cyborg's suit was black with blue highlights and he would be shooting blue paint. Nightwing was solid black, and would be shooting black paint. Kid Flash would wear and shoot yellow. Changeling, of course, wore green.

The four men walked out into the game arena. It filled most of the 33,000 square feet of the facility. It was a surreal multi-level playing field, with many obstacles, ramps, and obstructions. Most hard faces were padded and there were no visible corners. The lighting was time, except for some eerie green footlights along the floor next to the walls and some of the bigger obstacles. The air was sharp with the scent of artificial fog. Random beams of light swung through the play area, generated by searchlights mounted on the larger obstacles.

"This," said Changeling, "is a great place to get lost in."

"You better hope so," replied Cyborg.

"Wait, what?"

"Okay guys, there are two rules. First _no powers. _And I _mean that._ I'm gonna limit myself to normal hearing and vision. Wally, no super speed."

"Aw, man," said Kid Flash.

"Nightwing, normal vision only for you, too. And no gadgets except the official marker."

"Got it," replied Nightwing.

"And you," he said to Changeling, "You stay in THAT shape."

"Okay, okay . . ."

"Rule #2 – No _mano a mano: hand to hand. _That is, no punching, kicking, wrestling, boxing, or throwing of any kind. This is a paintball arena, and that's the game we're playing. Rule #3 – Any man shot has to be give a two minute head start before anyone can shoot him again. Got all that?"

All three men nodded.

"And now," said Cyborg, turning to Changeling, "Run. You get a two minute head start."

"What, what? Me? What about you guys?"

Cyborg replied, "One minute, forty five seconds."

Changeling looked up at his three fiends, dark silhouettes in the dim light of the arena. All he could see of their faces were blank white eyes, and three wicked, wicked grins.

"Aw crap," he muttered, and sprinted off into the darkness.

Cyborg grinned. "It's payback time for when he put all my power leads in the refrigerator."

Kid Flash nodded. "Axle grease on the bottom of my running shoes. Payback."

Nightwing's mouth twitched up at one corner. "Whoopie condoms in Starfire's bedside table last valentines day. Payback."

"Whoopie condoms?" repeated Cyborg.

"Trust me," Nightwing answered, "sometimes, farty noises are just _not funny._"

Changeling raced between the large padded obstacles, pausing from time to time to listen for his friends' footsteps. He paused next to a giant mushroom, peering around the trunk.

"If I can just get the drop on . . . . OW!"

There was a sharp blow to the light armor just about his left floating ribs. He looked down. His left side oozed black paint. He looked around wildly. Nothing. There was a sharp whistle from above. He looked up, and Nightwing the acrobat waved his marker at him.

"Gotcha," said the dark figure, and he somersaulted off into the darkness.

Changeling raced off in a different direction, backtracked, and then ran around several obstacles in a spiral. He started to ease around a corner, and then glanced up and around, watching out for the acrobat.

"Nothing!" he thought. "This time I'll . . . OW!"

His head rocked forward as a paintball smacked him on the back of his head, hard. He put his hand up and sample the paint. Bright yellow. Slowly he turned to see the figure in yellow armor standing about twenty feet away.

"How," wondered Garfield, "does Wally manage look so smug just _standing_ there?"

Wally twirled his marker around one finger, holstered it, and trotted off into the murk, giving Changeling his mandatory two minutes.

Changeling hunted carefully this time. He moved utterly silently, scanning the upper terraces of the obstacles, checking behind him and listening sharply. There was a crack to his left. Someone had kicked a pebble. He brought up his marker and turned to . . .

SMACK. His head rocked back. Changeling couldn't really tell what color the paint that covered the front of his helmet was, but the muttered, "boo-yah" from across the way was unmistakable, as was the heavy tread of the man-machine as he withdrew to give Changeling his head start.

"This," Garfield thought, "Is seriously beginning to suck."

And he spent the first full minute of his head start just thinking. With about a minute left, he came to a conclusion, holstered his marker, and _ran._

"I will," he thought as he ran, "go full-on defense. No hunting, no aiming, no weapon at all. Just running. I'm officially prey, just trying to stay alive."

And so he did. He ran, he jumped, he climbed. Racing along a narrow catwalk he barely stayed ahead of the phut-phut-phut of Wally's marker as yellow blobs of paint marked the wall behind him. Running full tilt, he grabbed hold of a vertical pole and swung around it, the sudden change in direction causing four of Cyborg's shots to go wild. He dove down into a narrow passageway just ahead of Nightwing, whose shot merely marked the wall as Changeling vanished around the corner.

"I think I've lost 'em," Garfield thought as he trotted silently down one of the perimeter nets that marked the edge of the playing field.

"Hey kid," said a voice.

Garfield stopped short. In his mid-twenties, he was hardly a kid. He squinted through the mesh.

"Okay," he thought, "Maybe I can call me 'kid.'"

The dude motioning to him outside of the mesh was slender and slightly stooped. Once a tall man, it looked as if gravity was slowly hauling him down. But gravity hadn't won yet. His dark eye had a wicked sparkle to them. Garfield slipped past the mesh, technically out-of-bounds. But there hadn't been a Rule against it.

"Your friends," said the old man, "are giving you a pretty hard time in there."

"Yeah," grinned Changeling, "Some people have no sense of humor. Or an appreciation of the amount of effort it takes to pull off a good joke. Do you have any _idea_ how hard it is to find whoopee condoms?"

His grin faded. "But this isn't much fun, I admit."

"I didn't think so either. That seems to be the problem?"

"They all have experience in distance weapons of some kind. Wally, I mean, Mr. Williamson, the yellow one runs and jumps long distances. Black, Mr. Jones, he throws grenades. And Mr. Smith, blue, has a gun he shoots all the time. Me, I always have to close to hand-to-hand."

"Don't seem fair, does it," said the old man. "Wanna beta test something I've been working on?"

Changeling raised an eyebrow. "Waddya got?"

"It's unique in the paintball world."

The old man bent over and hefted a heavy marker. It was about four feet long and its barrel was about four inches in diameter.

"Here," he said, "you hold it on your shoulder like a bazooka. The hopper is behind your shoulder."

"I get it. It moves pretty easy, but it is kinda heavy. What's it do?"

The old man snickered, "this baby can throw fifteen paintballs at once, in a spread three feet across. Check it out: I call it the splattershot. They're sure to ban it from tournament play after one outing, but I think she's just the thing you need. It only has three four shots before you have to reload, so choose them carefully, but you don't have to aim. Just point and click. But be careful. The barrel needs more weight to compensate for the hopper. It's going to tend to pull up."

Changeling bared his fangs, which glistened like ivory in the dim light. The old man parted the safety net, and the shape-shifter returned to the playing field.

Cyborg stalked along one of the center obstacles, scanning the darkness for his prey.

"Where IS he," wondered Cyborg. "If he's cut out and is in the break room watching me hunt him on TV I'm gonna . . ."

Then he spotted a telltale hint of green off in the murk. Quietly drawing closer, he saw his friend quietly sneaking along one wall.

"Face shots," thought Cy, "are so much fun. Boo-"

Cyborg playfully tapped his foot against the wall, making a metallic click that was sure to make Changeling turn his head. It had worked last time. Garfield's torso twisted, and Cy found himself staring down a gun barrel that a small cottontail rabbit could have hidden in. There was a deep, basso CHUD as the compressed air threw a spreading mass of green paintballs in Cyborgs direction.

The impact sounded like hailstones on a sponge roof as multiple green blobs sprouted on Cyborgs armor.

"Yah," he finished, flatly, paint dripping from his facemask.

"Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" laughed Changeling, as he raced off into the darkness.

Changeling selected a dead-end corridor, only about twenty feet long. There was a slight overhang. Plenty to both shade him in darkness and prevent Nightwing from raining black death on him from above. From here he could see out the end of the corridor and up to the tops of the walls.

"And now," he thought, "we wait."

None of his friends had ever know the Changeling for patience, but many, many of the animals that lived in his blood and bones knew the zen of the wait. Silently he breathed in and out, calling up the instincts of the trap door spider and the cougar, crouching in wait.

His friends continued looping back and forth through the game arena, getting both faster and more careless as they grew bored, unable to find their prey. Then Wally turned down the mouth of the narrow corridor.

Without hesitation or remorse, Changeling pressed the trigger toggle. CHUD.

"Ow. Aw man . . . ." said Wally as Changeling sprinted after him.

"That," he thought, leaves Nightwing. And _he's _not going to walk into an ambush."

With only two shots left, Changeling moved carefully through the dim light, thinking furiously. Nightwing, being Nightwing _had _to have been watching at least one of his two previous kills. He hefted his huge marker.

"Huge marker," he thought. "Why not? What have I got to lose?"

He dropped the huge marker down by his side, dangling it from his right hand and set off for the empty circle at the center of the arena. Their private rental was almost up.

"Nightwing!" shouted Changeling. "I say that you don't have hair one between your legs if you don't show up at the center of the Arena for a showdown."

Nightwing's voice immediately responded from the rafters. "A shootout? Man to man in the middle of the street? You're on."

The shadowy figure swung from support to support to land on the polished concrete floor on the opposite site of the ring from Changeling. Nightwing wore his marker in its holster. Changeling's gigantic, heavy marker dangled from his right hand, the heavy hopper pulling the barrel up, pointing it at the rafters.

"A duel at the end," said Nightwing. "Very classic. You're even facing a man in black."

"What can I say, I'm a traditional kind of guy. Always liked the classics."

"You're up to something," Nightwing observed.

"Who, me?"

"You've got to know that there's no way you're going to get that bazooka back up on your shoulder before I can clear leather and paint you."

"And yet, here we are."

"You know," Nightwing said, "Everybody knows I'm faster than you. It's no shame for you to go first."

"Nah," replied Changeling, "I've got time."

A minute went by. Then two. Finally, Nightwing lost patience.

"Fuck it," he thought, and his hand dove toward his thigh were the matte black futuristic handgun waited. Nightwing was fast. Really fast. He'd trained under Batman for half of his life, and then, on his own in Jump City, he'd _really_ gotten to work. Sure, he never packed heat, but for speed draws, a handgun wasn't _that_ much different from a batarang. He scooped the handle of the marker out of the holster. The barrel of the matte black weapon rose quickly, like the tongue of a snake, and Changeling, Nightwing knew, would be slower than molasses in January.

CHUD!

Nightwing's eye widened. Changeling fired before Nightwing could bring his weapon to bear. Garfield hadn't even attempted to bring his weapon to his shoulder where it should be. He'd just reached across with his left hand, shoved the barrel down, and fired from the hip.

The taller man had barely begun to turn when his face, chest, and left side sprouted a case of emerald measles.

"Uhn," grunted Nightwing at the impact.

"And that," said Garfield, "Is three."

He began to moonwalk to the center of the circle.

"Go Changeling! Go Changeling! It's your birthday! It's your birthday!"

He indulged himself in a booty dance as a buzzer went off, and the light came up.

"Thirty minutes to clean up and re-arm," said the PA system.

The four friends headed back toward the locker room.

"So," said Nightwing, "Where'd you get the paint-zooka?"

A half-hour later they had kitted out again. Rinsed off and paint free, this time the four friends would be on the same team, all shooting silver paint.

"Okay guys," said Cyborg, "Still no powers, and no hand-to-hand. These are normal guys, so be careful. We don't want anybody getting hurt. We'll be facing teams of four, six, or eight out there in the Arena. Last team with a man standing wins. Watch each other's backs. Remember – one death and you're out. Okay – Titans: GO!"

It really wasn't a fair fight. There were only about two hundred and fifty of them. It was no surprise when, about an hour later, brandishing his paint-zooka, flanked by Nightwing and Cyborg, Changeling had again claimed victory. Wally had been taken out when he'd been pinned down by a team of eight in a corner. The slightly forced good sportsmanship had become enthusiastic when Cyborg announce that the Silver Team couldn't stay for another round, but would be picking up the tab for everyone else to have another go.

The big man ran the others through the showers, locker room and check-out quickly.

"What's the big hurry?" asked Changeling.

"We're almost out of time. There's one more stop to make, and the people there shouldn't be kept waiting."

"What's next?"

"Oh, that would spoil it."

And so, less than thirty minutes later, the _Batmobile_ once again secured in its pallet, the Doom Patrol verti-jet jumped skyward, this time toward Jump City and home.

Wheels down at the Jump City Airport, Cyborg first gave Alicia another generious tip, then exchanged handshakes, fist bumps, and high fives with Robotman.

"72 Hours, no feminine interference. Well done young man," said the older cyborg.

"Thanks man," said Cy. "I didn't get the big deal about that, but Nightwing and I took all the precautions we could."

"You haven't heard the story? Heh. Rita raided Mento's bachelor party. Her friends convinced her we would be hip deep in 'loose women.' They burst in and ruined a great poker party. Rita was red-faced for years whenever the subject came up."

Cyborg laughed. "Well, we need to motor. Time is short. We're going to be late as it is."

Nightwing and Changeling pulled the _Batmobile_ up and Kid Flash and Cyborg got in.

Cyborg gave Changeling very specific directions.

"Isn't that, like, the Jump City Zoo?"

"Just shut up and drive."

And so the _Batmobile _wended its way through the traffic on the highway and then the surface streets to the Jump City zoo. Cyborg bought passes even though the zoo would be closing in only 15 minutes.

"I don't get it," Changeling said. "It's been a great day, but I've been to the zoo before. I know all these animals."

"There is," said Cyborg, "A tradition at bachelor parties. I would be a poor best man, indeed, if I allowed you to complete your bachelor party without seeing some of these. Ah, here we are."

The four men stood at the door to the aviary, that is, the bird house. Built in 1953, it was _badly_ in need of renovation, but the budget had only stretched as far as a paint job, currently underway.

"This way," said Cyborg.

The four men went down a wide stairway into an open atrium area. There were two displays of live birds, one on either side. Much of the room was draped in painter's cloth, and two middle aged men in overalls and painters caps loitered inside.

"Oh good," said Cyborg, "You're still here."

The larger fellow replied, "For what you paid, we'd have stayed half the night. We used the extra time to put something special together we hadn't planned on. We hope you like it."

The smaller man hit a button on a boom box, and the mellow electric guitar sounds of Edgar Winter Group's "Free Ride" began to sound in the otherwise empty room. The two men grabbed large two handed paint scrapers and began to tamp the handles against the floor in time to the music. The vocals started and they held the scrapers horizontally in front of them, still lifting them in time to the music. Then they turned and with a small booty dance, began to strip paint from the flaking, peeling columns.

Changeling stared, then looked over at Cyborg who was smirking. In the meantime, Wally and Nightwing had each moved over to tap their fingers against the labels of the two displays.

"Okay," said Changeling, "I'll be a sport."

He walked over and looked at each exhibit. Nightwing stood next to _Sula dactylatra._ Changeling blinked, and then looked at Kid Flash's exhibit. _Parus Major._

"Huh, he said. Then the corner of his mouth jerked up. He looked over at the dancing workmen who were continuing to strip paint from the columns with great enthusiasm.

"_Sula dactylatra," _said Changeling, briefly morphing into one. "And _Parus Major_," he said, turning into one of those. "Boobies and Great Tits. And of course, those guys are my 'strippers.'" He burst out laughing. "BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

Cyborg tipped the 'strippers.'

"Hey man, it's a sorry best man I'd be if I let your bachelor party go without you seeing strippers, tits, and boobies."

Changeling burst out laughing again. Every few minutes he'd laugh again as they walked out to the _Batmobile_ and returned to Titan Tower, on time, and stone cold sober. And without the slightest hint of hangover.

* * *

[1] Okay – first: The Lincoln Futura was a two seater. Everybody knows that. I'm putting four guys in it. Just push the rear wall back three feet in your imaginations and put a bench seat in. It just extends the canopy top back a little. Second: Dick Greyson named the _Batmobile_ back in the 60's. That would make Nightwing about 65 – 70 years old. I could have explained this away. Really. But instead of turning back flips with the plot, I'm just invoking the Rule of Cool. Cope. Garfield getting to drive the original, one true _Batmobile_ as part of his bachelor party is cool. So I'm doing it.


End file.
